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Dramatic 

Reciter 


NEW YORK 
DICK & FITZGERALD 

















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DICK’S 

11 

DRAMATIC RECITER 


A COLLECTION OF 

PATHETIC, SERIOUS AND COMIC 
SPEECHES AND RECITATIONS 
IN PROSE AND POETRY 





DICK & FITZGERALD 


18 Ann Street 



\ 





Copyright, 1897, 

By Dick & Fitzgerald. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Bashful Man, The. 71 

Belle of the Ball, The. 20 

Bingen on the Rhine . 69 

Buck Fanshaw’s Funeral. 82 

Burial of Little Nell. 75 

Cane Bottomed Chair, The. 58 

Cato’s Soliloquy. 54 

Declaration of Independence, Parody on the. 15 

Drummer’s Boy’s Burial, The. 44 

Dutchman’s Schmall Pox, The. 80 

Eulogy on Laughing. 5 

Frenchman and the Rats, The. 60 

Goddess of Slang, The. 14 

How Mr. Coville Counted the Shingles on his House. 7 

Jim Wolf and the Cats. 49 

Maclain’s Child. 11 

Mark Twain’s first Interview with Artemus Ward. 91 

Melting Moments... 41 





















4 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Metamora to the Council. 68 

Miss Maloney goes to the Dentist. 19 

Miss Maloney on the Chinese Question. 65 

Mouse Hunting. .. 51 

Mr. Coville’s Easy Chair. 9 

Mrs. Caudle’s Umbrella Lecture. ... . 55 

Norman Leslie’s Address to the Jury. 37 

Oh ! Why should the Spirit of Mortal be Proud ?. 17 

Out of the Old House. 38 

Eeturn of the Dead. 47 

Shamus O’Brien. 31 

Sheridan’s Ride. 24 

Talking Latin. 89 

Tom O’Connor’s Cat. 26 

Yat You Please. 62 

















DICK’S 

DRAMATIC RECITER. 


EULOGY ON LAUGHING. 


SEWAIiL. 

Like merry Momus, while the gods were quaffing, 

I come—to give an Eulogy on Laughing I 
True, courtly Chesterfield, with critc zeal, 

Asserts that laughing’s vastly uugenteel! 

The boist’rous shake, he says, distorts fine faces, 

And robs each pretty feature of the graces ! 

But yet this paragon of perfect taste 
On other topics was not over-chaste ; 

He like the Pharisees in this appears, 

They ruined widows, but they made long prayers ; 
Tithe, anise, mint, they zealously affected: 

But the law’s weightier matters they neglected ; 

And while an insect strains their squeamish caul, 
Down goes a monstrous camel—bunch and all! 

Yet others quite as sage, with warmth dispute 
Man’s risibles distinguish him from brute ; 

While instinct, reason, both in common own, 

To laugh is man’s prerogative alone ! 

Hail, rosy Laughter, thou deserv’st the bays! 
Come, with thy dimples animate these lays, 

Whilst universal peals attest thy praise. 

Daughter of joy ! through thee we health attain, 
When Esculapian recipes are vain. 

Let sentimentalists ring in our ears 



6 


Sl’EECHIANA. 


The tender joy of grief—the luxury of tears— 
Heraclitus may whine—and oh !—and ah !— 

I like an honest, hearty hah, hah, hah ! 

It makes the wheels of nature gliblier play : 

Dull care suppresses ; smooths life’s thorny way ; 
Propels the dancing current thro’ each vein ; 

Braces the nerves ; corroborates the brain f 
Shakes ev’ry muscle, and throws off the spleen. 

Old Homer makes yon tenants of the skies, 

His gods, love laughing as they did their eyes ! 

It kept them in good humor, hush’d their squabbles 
As froward children are appeas'd by baubles; 

E’en Jove the thunderer dearly lov’d a laugh, 

When of fine nectar he had ta’en a quaff! 

It helps digestion when the feast runs high, 

And dissipates the fumes of potent Burgundy. 

But, in the main, tho’ laughing I approve, 

It is not ev’ry kind of laugh I love ; 

For many laughs ev’n candor must condemn ! 

Some are too full of acid, some of phlegm ; 

The loud horse-laugh (improperly so styl’d), 

The idiot simper, like the slumb’ring child, 

Th’ affected laugh to show a dimpled chin, 

The sneer contemptuous, and broad vacant grin, 
Are despicable all, as Strephon’s smile, 

To show his ivory legions, rank and file. 

The honest laugh, unstudied, unacquir’d, 

By nature prompted and true wit inspired, 

Such as Quin felt, and Falstaff knew before, 

When humor set the table in a roar, 

Alone deserves th’ applauding muses’ grace ! 

The rest—is all contortion and grimace ; 

But you exclaim, “ Your Eulogy’s too dry ; 

Leave dissertation, and exemplify! 

Prove, by experiment, your maxims true ; 

And, what you praise so highly, make us do.” 

In truth I hop’d this was already done, 


SPEECHIANA. 


And Mirth and Momus had the laurels won ! 

Like honest Hodge, unhappy should X fail, 

Who to a crowded audience told his tale, 

And laugh’d and snigger’d all the while himself, 

To grace the story, as he thought, poor elf! 

But not a single soul his suffrage gave— 

While each long phiz was serious as the grave ! 

Laugh ! laugh ! cries Hodge, laugh loud ! no halfing , 
I thought you all, ere this, would die with laughing ! 
This did the feat; for, tickled at the whim, 

A burst of laughter, like the electric beam, 

Shook all the audience—but it was at him ! 

Like Hodge, should ev’ry stratagem and wile, 

Thro* my long story, not excite a smile, 

I’ll bear it with becoming modesty ; 

But should my feeble efforts move your glee, 

Laugh, if you fairly can—but not at ME ! 


HOW MR. COVILLE COUNTED THE SHINGLES 
ON HIS HOUSE. 

DANBURY NEWS. 

There are men who dispute what they do not understand. 
Mr. Coville is such a man. When he heard a carpenter 
say that there were so many shingles on the roof of his 
house, because the'roof contained so many square feet, Co¬ 
ville doubted the figures ; and, when the carpenter went 
away, he determined to test the matter, by going up on the 
roof and counting them. And he went up there. He 
squeezed through the scuttle—Coville weighs 230—and 
then sat down on the roof, and worked liis way carefully 
and deliberately toward the gutter. When he got part way 
down, he heard a sound between him and the shingles, and 
became aware that there was an interference, some way, in 
further locomotion. He tried to turn over and crawl back, 


8 


SPEKCHIANA. 


but the obstruction held him. Then he tried to move a lit¬ 
tle, in hopes that the trouble would prove but temporary, 
but an increased sound convinced him that either a nail or 
a sliver had hold of his cloth, and that if he would save 
any of it, he must use caution. His folks were in the 
house, but he did not make them hear, and besides he didn’t 
want to attract the attention of the neighbors. So he sat 
there until after dark, and thought. It would have been 
an excellent opportunity to have counted the shingles, but 
he neglected to use it. His mind appeared to run in other 
channels. He sat there an hour after dark, seeing no one 
he could notify of his position. Then he saw two boys ap¬ 
proaching the gate from the house, and reaching there, stop. 
It was light enough for him to see that one of the two was 
his son, and although he objected to having the other boy 
know of his misfortune, yet he had grown tired of holding 
on to the roof, and concluded he could bribe the strange boy 
into silence. With this arrangement mapped out, he took 
his knife and threw it so that it would strike near to the 
boys and attract their attention. It struck nearer than he 
anticipated. In fact, it struck so close as to hit the strange 
boy on the head, and nearly brained him. As soon as he 
recovered his equilibrium, he turned on Coville’s boy, who, 
he was confident, had attempted to kill him, and introduced 
some astonishment and bruises in his face. Then he threw 
him down, and kicked him in the side, and banged him on 
the head, and drew him over into the gutter, and pounded 
his legs, and then hauled him back to the walk again, and 
knocked his head against the gate. And all the while the 
elder Coville sat on the roof, and screamed for the police, 
but couldn’t get away. And then Mrs. Coville dashed out 
with a broom, and contributed a few novel features to the 
affair at the gate, and one of the boarders dashed out with 
a double-barreled gun, and hearing the cries from the roof, 
looked up there, and espying a figure which was undoubt¬ 
edly a burglar, drove a handful of shot into its legs. With 
a howl of agony, Coville made a plunge to dodge the mis- 


SPEECHIANA. 


9 


siles, freed himself from the nail, lost his hold to the roof, 
and went sailing down the shingles with awful velocity, 
both legs spread out, his hair on end, and his hands making 
desperate but fruitless efforts to save himself. He was so 
frightened that he lost his power of speech, and when he 
passed over the edge of the roof with twenty feet of tin 
gutter hitched to him, the boarder gave him the contents of 
the other barrel, and then drove into the house to load up 
again. The unfortunate Coville struck into a cherry tree, 
and thence bounded to the ground, where he was recog¬ 
nized, picked up by the assembled neighbors, and carried 
into the house. A new doctor is making a good day’s 
wages picking the shot out of his legs. The boarder has 
gone into the country to spend the summer, and the junior 
Coville, having sequestered a piece of brick in his handker¬ 
chief, is laying low for that other boy. He says, that be¬ 
fore the calm of another Sabbath rests on New England, 
there will be another boy in Danbury who can’t wear a 
cap. 


MR. COVILLE’S EASY CHAIR. 

DANBUBY NEWS. 

Since the unfortunate accident to Mr. Coville 'while on 
the roof counting the shingles, he has been obliged to keep 
pretty close to the house. Last Wednesday he went out 
into the yard for the first time ; and on Friday Mrs. Coville 
got him an easy chair, which proved a great comfort to 
him. It is one of those chairs that can be moved by the 
occupant to form almost any position by means of ratchets. 
Mr. Coville was very much pleased with this new contriv¬ 
ance, and the first forenoon did nothing but sit in it and 
work it in all ways. He said such a chair as that did more 
good in this world than a hundred sermons. He had it in 
his room, the front bed-room up stairs, and there he would 
sit and look out of the window, and enjoy himself as much 



10 


SPEECHIANA. 


as a man can whose legs have been ventilated with shot. 
Monday afternoon he got in the chair as usual. Mrs. Co- 
ville was out in the back yard hanging up clothes, and the 
son was across the street drawing a lath along a picket 
fence. Sitting down, he grasped the sides of the chair with 
both hands to settle it back, when the whole thing gave 
way, and Mr. Coville came violently to the floor. 

For an instant the unfortunate gentleman was benumbed 
by the suddenness of the shock, the next he was aroused by 
acute pain in each arm, and the great drops of sweat oozed 
from his forehead when he found that the little finger of 
each hand had caught in the little ratchets and was as 
firmly held as in a vice. There he lay on his back with 
the end of a round sticking in his side, and both hands per¬ 
fectly powerless. The least move of his body aggravated 
the pain which was chasing up his arms. He screamed 
for help, but Mrs Coville was in the back yard telling Mrs. 
Coney, next door, that she didn’t know what Coville would 
do without that chair, and so she didn’t hear him. He 
pounded the floor with his stockinged feet, but the younger 
Coville was still drawing emotion from the fence across the 
way, and all other sounds were rapidly sinking into insigni¬ 
ficance. Besides, Mr. Coville’s legs were not sufficiently 
recovered from the late accident to permit their being pro¬ 
fitably used as mallets. 

How he did despise that offspring, and how fervently he 
did wish the owner of that fence would light on that boy 
and reduce him to powder! Then he screamed again 
and howled and shouted “ Maria !” But there was no re¬ 
sponse. What if he should die alone there in that awful 
shape! The perspiration started afresh, and the pain in 
his arms assumed an awful magnitude. Again he shrieked 
“ Maria!” but the matinee across the way only grew in 
volume, and the unconscious wife had gone into Mrs. Co¬ 
ney’s and was trying on that lady’s redingote. Then he 
prayed, and howled, and coughed, and swore, and then 
apologized for it, and prayed and howled again, and 
screamed at the top of his voice the awfullest things he 


SPEEOHIANA. 


11 


would do to that boy if heaven would only spare him, and 
show him an axe. 

Then he opened his mouth for one final shriek, when the 
poor opened and Mrs. Coville appeared with a smile on her 
face, and Mrs. Coney’s redingote on her back. In one 
glance she saw that something awful had happened to Jo¬ 
seph, and with wonderful presence of mind she screamed 
for help, and then fainted away, and ploughed headlong 
into his stomach. Fortunately the blow deprived him of 
speech, else he might have said something that he would 
ever have regretted, and before he could regain his senses 
Mrs. Coney dashed in and removed the grief-stricken wife. 
But it required a blacksmith to cut Coville loose. He is 
again back in bed, with his mutilated fingers resting on pil¬ 
lows, and there he lies all day concocting new forms ot 
death for the inventor of that chair, and hoping nothing 
will happen to his son until he can get well enough to ad¬ 
minister it himself. 


MACLAINE’S CHILD. 

ANONYMOUS. 

u Maclaine ! you’ve scourged me like a hound, 

You should have struck me to the ground : 

You should have played a chieftain’s part— 

You should have stabbed me to the heart. 

And for this wrong which you have done, 

I’ll wreak my vengeance on your son.” 

He seized the child with sudden hold, 

A smiling infant, three years old. 

And, leaping for its topmost ledge, 

He held the infant o’er the edge ; 

“ In vain thy wrath, thy sorrow vain ; 

No hand shall save it, proud Maclaine! 



12 


SPEECH! AN A.. 


With flashing eye and burning brow, 

The mother followed, heedless how ; 

But, midway up the rugged steep, 

She found a chasm she could not leap ; 

And, kneeling on its brink, she raised 
Her supplicating hands, and gazed. 

“ Oh ! spare my child, my joy, my pride : 
Oh ! give me back my child ! ” she cried. 

“ Come, Evan,” said the trembling chief— 
His bosom wrung with pride and grief— 

“ Restore the boy, give back my son, 

And I’ll forgive the wrong you’ve done ! ” 

“ I scorn forgiveness, haughty man ! 

You’ve injured me before the clan, 

And naught but blood shall wipe away 
The shame I have endured to-day! ” 

And as he spoke he raised the child, 

To dash it ’mid the breakers wild : 

But, at the mother’s piercing cry, 

Drew back a step and made reply: 

“ Fair lady, if your lord will strip, 

And let a clansman wield the whip, 

Till skin shall flay, and blood shall run, 

I’ll give you back your little son.” 

The lady’s cheek grew pale with ire, 

The chieftain’s eyes flashed sudden fire ; 

He drew a pistol from his breast, 

Took aim,—then dropped it, sore distressed. 

“ I might have slain my babe instead. 
Come, Evan, come,” the father said, 

And through his heart a tremor ran, 
u We’ll fight our quarrel man to man.” 


SPEECHIANA. 


13 


“ You’ve heard my answer, proud Maclaine, 
I will not fight you,—think again.” 

The lady stood in mute despair, 

With freezing blood and stiffening hair ; 

She moved no limb, she spoke no word, 

She could not look upon her lord. 

He saw the quivering of her eye, 

Pale lips and speechless agony. 

And, doing battle with his pride, 
u Give back the boy,—I yield ; ” he cried 0 
Thus love prevailed ; and bending low, 

He hared his shoulders to the blow. 

u I smite you,” said the clansman true, 

“ Forgive me, chief, the deed I do ! 

For by yon heaven that hears me speak, 

My dirk in Evan’s heart shall reek! ” 

But Evan’s face beamed hate and joy ; 

Close to his breast lie hugged the boy; 
u Revenge is just, revenge is sweet, 

And mine, Lochbuy, shall be complete.” 

Ere hand could stir, with sudden shock, 

He threw the infant o’er the rock,— 

Then followed with a desperate leap, 

Down fifty fathoms to the deep. 

They found their bodies in the tide ; 

And never till the day she died 
Was that sad mother known to smile: 

The ISiobe of Mulla’s isle. 


14 


SPEKCHIANA. 


THE GODDESS OF SLANG. 

anonymous. 

I was courting a beautiful girl one night, 

Whom I worshipped as almost divine, 

And longed to hear breathed the sweet little word 
That told me that she would be mine. 

I was praising the wealth of her chestnut hair, 

And her eyes of matchless blue, 

When she laid her dear cheek on my shoulder, and said, 

“ Hurrah ! that’s bully for you.” 

I started in terror, but managed to keep 
From showing my intense surprise, 

And pressed my lips lightly on brow and on cheek, 

And then on her meekly closed eyes. 

I told her my love was as deep as the sea, 

As I felt her heart go pit patter, 

I would worship her always if she would be mine ; 

And she whispered, “ Oh ! that’s what’s the matter.” 

I told her her cheek would the rose put to shame; 

Her teeth the famed Orient pearl; 

And the ocean’s rich coral could never compare 
With the lips of my beautiful girl; 

That her voice was like music that comes to the ear 
In the night-time ; and what was her smile? 

As that of an angel. And softly she breathed, 

“ On that you can just bet your pile.” 

In the hush of the starlight I still whispered on, 

And pressed her more close to my breast; 

Talked sweeter than Romeo, dearer than Claude, 

And told her how true love was blest; 

Of bliss in a cottage, of flowers and birds, 

(Though I felt times strange out of joint;) 

When she looked with a smile, and daintily lisped 
In my ear, “ I can’t quite see the point.” 


SPEECHIANA. 


15 


I still pressed her closely, I talked still more sweet, 
Called the stars to look down on our love ; 

Made u love” rhyme to “ dove/’ and “kiss” rhyme to u bliss 
And vowed, by the heavens above, 

I’d be constant and true if she’d only be mine ; 

Pressed her lips, and carressed her brown locks ; 

When she answered me back, with a rich, saucy laugh, 
u Look’e here ! a’in’t you after the rocks?” 


PARODY ON THE DECLARATION OF INDEPEN¬ 
DENCE. 

ANONYMOUS. 

When, in the course of human events, it becomes neces¬ 
sary for a half-hungry, half-fed, imposed-on set of men, to 
dissolve the bands of landlord and boarder, a decent respect 
for the opinions of mankind requires that they should de¬ 
clare the causes which have impelled them to separation. 

We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are 
created with mouths and stomachs ; and they are endowed by 
their Creator with certain inalienable rights ; among which 
is, that no man shall be compelled to starve out of mere com¬ 
pliance to a landlord; and that every man has a right to 
fill his stomach and wet his whistle with the best that’s 
going. 

The history of the present landlord of the White Lion is 
a history of repeated insults, exactions and injuries, all hav¬ 
ing in direct object the establishment of absolute tyranny 
over their stomachs and throats. To prove this, let facts 
be submitted to a candid world. 

He has refused to keep anything to drink but bald-faced 
whisky. 

He has refused to set upon his table for dinner anything 
but turnip-soup, with a little tough beef and sour-crout, 
which are not wholesome and necessary for the public 
good. 



16 


SPEECHIANA. 


He has refused to let his only servant, blink-eyed Joe, 
put more than six grains of coffee to one gallon of water. 

He has turned loose a multitude of mosquitoes to assail 
us in the peaceful hours of the night and eat our substance. 

He has kept up, in our bedsteads, standing armies of 
merciless savages, with their scalping knives and toma¬ 
hawks, whose rule of warfare is undistinguished destruc¬ 
tion, 

He has excited domestic insurrection among us, by tak¬ 
ing bitters before breakfast, and making his wife and ser¬ 
vant do the same before dinner, whereby there is often the 
deuce to pay. 

He has waged cruel war against nature herself, by feed¬ 
ing our horses with brown-straw, and carrying them off to 
drink where swine refused to wallow. 

He has protected one-eyed Joe in his villainy, in the rob¬ 
bery of our jugs, by pretending to give him a mock trial, 
after sharing with him the spoil. 

He has cut off the trade from foreign port, and brought 
his own bald-faced whiskey, when we had sent him to buy 
better liquor abroad ; and, with a perfidy scarcely paral¬ 
leled in the most barbarous ages, he has been known to 
drink our foreign spirits, and fill up our bottles with his 
own dire potions. 

He has imposed taxes upon us to an enormous amount, 
without our consent, and without any rule bnt his own ar¬ 
bitrary will and pleasure. 

A landlord whose character is thus marked by every act 
which may define a tyrant and a master, is unfit to keep a 
boarding-house for Cherokee Indians. 

Nor have we been wanting in our attention to Mrs. B— 
and Miss Sally. We have appealed to their native justice 
and magnanimity—we have conjured them to alter a state 
of things which would inevitably interrupt our connection 
and correspondence. They, too, have been deaf to the 
voice of juslice. We are, therefore, constrained to hold all 
three of these parties alike inimical to our well-being, and 
regardless of our comfort. 


SPEECHIANA. 


17 


We, therefore, make this solemn declaration of our final 
separation from our former landlord, and cast our defiance 
in his teeth. 


OH, WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF MORTAL 
BE PROUD? 

ANONYMOUS. 

Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud? 

Like a swift, fleeting meteor, a fast flying cloud, 

A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave, 

Man passeth from life to his rest in the grave. 

The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade, 

Be scattered around and together be laid ; 

And the young and the old, and the low and the high, 
Shall moulder to dust and together shall lie. 

The infant a mother attended and loved ; 

The mother that infant’s affection who proved ; 

The husband that mother and infant who blessed, 

Each, all, are away to their dwellings of rest. 

The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye, 
Shone beauty and pleasure, her triumphs are by ; 

And the memory of those who loved her and praised, 

Are alike from the minds of the living erased. 

The hand of the king that the sceptre hath borne ; 

The brow of the priest that the mitre hath worn ; 

The eye of the sage and the heart of the brave, 

Are hidden and lost in the depth of the grave. 

The peasant whose lot to sow and to reap, 

The herdsman, who climbed with his goats up the steep; 
The beggar, who wandered in search of his bread, 

Have faded away like the grass that we tread. 



18 


SPEECHIANA. 


The saint who enjoyed the communion of heaven. 

The sinner who dared to remain unforgiven, 

The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just, 

Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust. 

So the multitude goes, like the flowers or the weed 
That withers away to let others succeed; 

So the multitude comes, even those we behold, 

To repeat every tale that has often been told. 

For we are the same our fathers have been; 

We see the same sights our fathers have seen— 

We drink the same stream and view the same sun, 

And run the same course our fathers have run. 

The thoughts we are thinking our fathers would think; 
From the death we are shrinking our fathers would shrink 
To the life we are clinging our fathers would cling ; 

But it speeds for us all, like a bird on the wing. 

They loved, but the story we cannot unsold ; 

They scorned, but the heart of the haughty is cold ; 

They grieved, but no wail from their slumbers will come 
They joyed, but the tongue of their gladness is dumb. 

They died, aye ! they died ; and we things that are now, 
Who walk on the turf that lies over their brow, 

Who make in their dwelling a transient abode, 

Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road. 

Yea ! hope and despondency, pleasure and pain, 

We mingle together in sunshine and rain ; 

And the smiles and the tears, the song and the dirge, 

Still followed each other, like surge upon surge. 

’Tis the wink of an eye, ’tis the draught of a breath 5 
From the blossom of health to the paleness of death. 

From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud— 

Oh why should the spirit of mortal be proud ? 


SPEECHIANA. 


19 


MISS MALONEY GOES TO THE DENTIST. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Sure, and did I tell yez how I wint to the dintist yister- 
day? Be aisy now, will yez, and wait a bit, and I’ll tell 
yez all about it. Says I, “ Och docthur, doctliur dear, it’s 
me tooth that aches intirely, sure it is, an’ I’ve a mind to 
have it drawn out, av ye plaze, sur.” “ Does it hurt ye?” 
says he till me. u Och, murther, can ye ax me that, now, 
an’ me all the way down here to see yez about it?” says 
I. “ Sure I havn’t slept day or night these three days. 
Bedad, haven’t I tried all manes to quiet the jumpin’ divil? 
Sure didn’t they tell me to put raw whiskey intil me 
mouth, but would it stay there, jist tell me now? No, the 
divil a bit could I kape it up in my month, though it’s far 
from the likes o’ me to be dhrinkin’ the whiskey widout ex- 
trame provocation, or by accidint.” So thin the docthur 
took his iron instrumints in a hurry, wid as little consarn- 
ment of mind as Barney would swape the knives an’ forks 
from the table. 

“ Be aisy, docthur,” says I, u there’s time enough ; sure 
you’ll not be in such a hurry,” says I, “ whin your time 
comes, I’m thinkin.” u Och, well,” says the docthur, “ an’ 
av yez not ready now, Miss Maloney, ye may come on the 
morrow.” “ Indade, docthur, I’ll not sthir from this sate 
wid this ould dead tooth alive in me jaw,” so ye may jist 
{ prepare ; but ye nade not come slashin’ at a poor Christian 
body as av ye would wring her neck otf first, an’ dhraw her 
tooth at yez convaynience mebbe a quarther of an hour or 
so aftherward. 

Now clap on yer pinchers, bad luck to thim, but mind 
ye git liould av the right one—sure, ye may aisily see it 
by the achin’ an’jumpin’,” says I. u Och,” says he, “ I’ll 
git hould av the right one,” an’ wid that he jabs a small 
razor-lookin’ weapon intil me mouth an’ cuts up me gooms 
as av it was nothin’ but cowld mate for hash for breakfast. 
Says I, “ Docthur, thunder an’ turf! ” for my mouth was 
full of blood, “ fwhat in the divil are ye afther? D’ye 


20 


SPEECHIANA. 


want to make an anatomy av a livin’ craythnr, ye grave- 
robber, ye ? ” says I. u Sit stliill,” says he, jamming some¬ 
thing like a cork-screw intil me jowl, an’ twisting the very 
sowl out av me. Sure I sat still, bekase the murtherin’ 
thafe held me down wid his knee and the gripe of his iron 
in me lug. If you’ll belave me, the worrest of all was 
whin he gave an awful wring, hard enough to wring a wet 
blankit as dhry as gunpowdher. Arrah ! didn’t I think the 
judgmint day had come till me ? Holy fathers ! may I 
niver brathe another breath if I didn’t see the red fire in 
the pit! Sure I felt me head fly off me shoulders, an’ 
lookin’ up, saw somethin’ monsthrous bloody in the doc- 
thur’s wrenchin’ iron. u Is that me head ye have got 
thare?” says I. “No, it’s only your tooth,” says he. 
“ You lie,” says I. “ God bliss you,” says he. “ May be 
it is me tooth,” says I, as me eyes began to open, an’ by 
puttin’ me hand up, troth I found the outside av me face 
on, tho’ I felt as if all the inside had been hauled out, bur¬ 
rin’ the jumpin' pain in the tooth, which had grown to fill 
the gap. 

Och ! may the divil take the tooth, an’ the bad luck too, 
if I iver think av it any more. Sure I’ve had enough of 
its company, bad cess to the little divil 1 


THE BELLE OF THE BALL. 


PKAED. 

Years, years ago, ere yet my dreams 
Had been of being wise or witty, 

Ere I had done with writing themes, 

Or yawned o'er this infernal Chitty,— 

Years, years ago, while all my joys 
Were in my fowling-piece and filly, 

In short, while I was yet a boy, 

I fell in love with Laura Lilly. 



SPEECHIANA. 


21 


I saw her at the county ball, 

There, when the sounds of flute and fiddle 

Gave signal sweet in that old hall, 

Of hands across and down the middle. 

Hers was the subtlest spell by far 

Of all that sets young hearts romancing, 

She was our queen, our rose, our star, 

And then she danced—oh, heaven, her dancing. 

Dark was her hair, her hand was white, 

Her voice was exquisitely tender, 

Her eyes were full of liquid light; 

I never saw a waist so slender; 

Her every look, her every smile, 

Shot right and left a score of arrows. 

I thought ’twas Venus, from her isle, 

And wondered where she’d left her sparrows. 

She talked of politics and prayers, 

Of Southey’s prose and Wordsworth’s sonnets, 

Of danglers or of dancing bears, 

Of battles or the last new bonnets ; 

By candle-light, at twelve o’clock,— 

To me it mattered not a little,— 

If those red lips had quoted Locke, 

I might have thought they murmured Little. 

Through sunny May, through sultry June, 

I loved her with a love eternal; 

I spoke her praises to the moon, 

I wrote them to the Sunday Journal. 

My mother laughed : I soon found out 
Tli at ancient ladies have no feeling ; 

My father frowned : but how should gout 
See any happiness in kneeling ! 

She was the daughter of a dean,— 

Rich, fat, and rather apoplectic ; 


22 


SFEECHIANA. 


She had one brother just thirteen, 

Whose color was extremely hectic. 

Her grandmother for many a year, 

Had fed the parish with her bounty; 

Her second cousin was a peer, 

And lord-lieutenant of the county. 

But titles and the three per-cents 
And mortgages, and great relations, 

And India bonds, and titles, and rents, 

O, what are they, to love’s sensations? 

Black eyes, fair forehead, clustering locks,— 
Such wealth, such honors, Cupid chooses, 
He cares as little for the stocks 

As Baron Rothschild for the Muses. 

She sketched : the vale, the wood, the beach, 
Grew lovelier from her pencil’s shading: 

She botanized : I envied each 

Young blossom in her boudoir fading : 

She warbled Handel: it was grand,— 

She made the Catalina jealous ; 

She touched the organ : I could stand 
For hours and hours to blow the bellows. 

She kept an Album, too, at home, 

Well filled with all an Album’s glories— 
Paintings of butterflies and Rome, 

Patterns for trimmings, Persian stories, 

Soft songs to Julia's cockatoo, 

Fierce odes to famine and to slaughter, 

And autographs of Prince Leeboo, 

And recipes for elder water. 

And she was worshipped, flattered, bored ; 

Her steps were watched, her dress was noted 
Her poodle-dog was quite adored ; 

Her sayings were extremely quoted. 


SPEECHIANA. 


23 


She laughed,—and every heart was glad, 

As if the taxes were abolished : 

She frowned ;—and every look was sad, 

As if the opera were demolished. 

She smiled on many just for fun,— 

I knew that there was nothing in it; 

I was the first, the only one, 

Her heart had thoughts of for a minute. 

I knew it, for she told me so, 

In phrase which was divinely moulded; 

She wrote a charming hand—and O ! 

How sweetly all her notes were folded. 

Our love was like most other loves,— 

A little glow, a little shiver, 

A rosebud and a pair of gloves, 

And “ Fly not yet” upon the river. 

Some jealousy of some one’s heir, 

Some hopes of dying broken-hearted; 

A miniature, a lock of hair, 

The usual vows,—and then we parted. 

We parted :—months and years rolled by; 
We met again four summers after, 

Our parting was all sob and sigh, 

Our meeting was all mirth and laughter! 

For in my heart’s tfnost secret cell 
There had been many other lodgers ; 

For she was not the ball-room’s belle, 

But only Mrs.-Something-Rogers. 



24 


SPEECHIANA. 


SHERIDAN’S RIDE. 

THOMAS BUCHANAN BEAD. 

Up from the South at break of day, 

Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, 

The affrighted air with a shudder bore, 

Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain’s door, 

The terrible grumble and rumble and roar, 

Telling the battle was on once more, 

And Sheridan twenty miles away. 

And wider still those billows of war 
Thundered along the horizon’s bar, 

And louder yet into Winchester rolled 
The roar of that red sea uncontrolled, 

Making the blood of the listener cold 

As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray, 

With Sheridan twenty miles away. 

But there is a road from Winchester town, 

A good, broad highway leading down ; 

And there through the flash of the morning light, 

A steed as black as the steeds of night, 

Was seen to pass as with eagle flight— 

As if he knew the terrible need, 

He stretched away with the utmost speed; 

Hills rose and fell—but his heart was gay, 

With Sheridan fifteen miles away. 

Still sprung from those swift hoofs thundering south, 
The dust, like the smoke from the cannon’s mouth, 

Or the trail of a comet sweeping faster and faster, 
Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster ; 

The heart of the steed and the heart of the master 
Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls, 
Impatient to be where the battle-field calls ; 

Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play, 
With Sheridan only ten miles away. 


SPEECHIANA. 


25 


Under his spurning feet the road 
Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed, 

And the landscape sped away behind 
Like an ocean flying before the wind ; 

And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire, 

Swept on with his wild eyes full of fire ; 

But lo ! he is nearing his heart’s desire, 

He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray, 

With Sheridan only five miles away. 

The first that the General saw were the groups 
Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops , 

What was done—what to do—a glance told him both, 
And striking his spurs with a terrible oath, 

He dashed down the line ’mid a storm of huzzahs, 

And the wave of retreat checked its course there because 
The sight of the master compelled it to pause. 

With foam and with dust the black charger was gray, 
By the flash of his eye and his nostril’s play 
He seemed to the whole great army to say, 

“ I have brought you Sheridan all the way 
From Winchester, down to save the day ! ” 

Hurrah, hurrah for Sheridan ! 

Hurrah, hurrah for horse and man ! 

And when their statues are placed on high, 

Under the dome of the Union sky,— 

The American soldier’s Temple of Fame,— 

There with the glorious General’s name 
Be it said m letters both bold and bright: 

“ Here is the steed that saved the day 
By carrying Sheridan into the fight, 

From Winchester—twenty miles away! ” 


26 


SPEECHIANA. 


TOM O’CONNOR’S CAT, 

ANONYMOUS. 

There was a man called Tom O’Connor, and he had a 
cat equal to a dozen rat-traps and worth her weight in 
goold, in savin’ his sacks of meal from the thievery of the 
rats and mice. This cat was a great pet, and was so up to 
everything, and had so sinsible a look in her eyes, Tom 
were sartin sure the cat knew ivery word that was said to 
her. 

She used to sit by him at breakfast ivery morning, and 
the eloquent cock in her tail, as she used to rub against his 
leg, said, u Give me some milk, Tom O’Connor,” as plain 
as print; and the plenitude of her purr, spoke a gratitude 
beyond language. Well, one morning, Tom was going to 
the neighboring town, to market, and to bring home shoes 
to the childhre, out of the price of his corn ; and sure eno’, 
before he sat down to breakfast, there was Tom takin’ the 
measure of the childhre’s feet by cuttin’ notches on a bit of 
stick ; and the wife gave him so many cautions about a 
nate fit for “ Billy’s purty feet,” that Tom in his anxiety to 
nick the closest possible measure, cut the child’s toe. That 
disturbed the harmony of the party, and Tom had to break¬ 
fast alone, while mother was tryin’ to cure Billy—to make 
a heal of his toe . Well, all the time Tom was takin’ mea¬ 
sure, the cat was observin’ him with that luminous pecu¬ 
liarity in eye, for which her tribe is remarkable ; and when 
Tom sat down to breakfast, the cat rubbed against him 
more vigorously than iver, and whin he kipt niver mindin’ 
her, she made a sort of caterwaulin’ growl and gave Tom 
a dab of her claws that wint clane through his leathers. 
“ Now,” said Tom, with a jump, “ by this and by that, ye 
dhrew the blood out iv me,” says he. “You wicked divil! 
tish, go long ! ” makin’ a strike at her. With that the cat 
gave a reproachful look, and her eyes glared like mail- 
coach lamps in a fog. The cat gave a mysterious “ miaou,” 
fixed a penetrating glance on Tom, and distinctly uttered 
his name. 


SPEECHIANA. 


27 


Tom felt every hair on his head as stiff as a pump-han¬ 
dle ; he returned a searching look at the cat, who quietly 
proceeded with a sort of twang : 

u Tom O’Connor-” says she. 

“ Och the Saints be good to me,” says he ; “ if it isn’t 
spakin’ she is.” 

“ Tom O’Connor,” says she again. 

“ Yis, ma’am,” says Tom. 

u Come here,” says she, “ the laste taste in private ; ” 
says she, risin’ on her hams, an’ beckonin’ him wid her 
paw out iv the door, wid a wink, an’ a toss iv the head, 
equal to a milliner. 

Tom didn’t know whether he was on his head or his 
heels ; but he followed the cat, and off she wint and squat¬ 
ted on the hedge of a little paddock back of the house. 

Well, divil a word Tom could say with the fright. 

“ Tom,” says the cat, “ I’ve a great respect for you.” 

u Thank you, ma’am,” says Tom. 

“ You’re goin’ off to the town,” says she, “ to buy shoes 
for the childhre, and niver thought on gettin’ me a pair.” 

u You?” says Tom. 

“ Yes, vie ; and the neighbors wonder, Tom O’ConDor, 
that a respectable man like you allows your cat to go about 
the couthry barefutted,” says she. 

“ Is it a cat to wear shoes?” says Tom. 

“ Why not?” says she ; “ doesn’t horses wear shoes? an’ 
I’ve a purtier fut nor a horse!” 

4 k Faix, she spakes like a woman!” says Tom. But, 
ma’am, I don’t see how you cu’d fasten a shoe on you!” 
says he. 

“ Lave that to me,” says the cat. 

“ As for the horses, mem, you know their shoes is fas¬ 
tened on with nails!” 

“ Ah, you stupid thafe,” says the cat, “ an’ hav’nt I illi- 
gant nails of my own ?” an’ wid that she gave him a dab 
wid her claws. 

u Och, murther,” roared Tom. 



28 


SPEECHIANA. 


“No more ov your palaver, Misther O’Connor,” says the 
cat; “just be off an’ get me the shoes.” 

“ Tare an’ ouns !” says Tom, “ what’ill become of me 
if I am to get shoes for me cats ?” 

So Tom wint off to the town, as he pretended—for he 
saw the cat watchin’ him thro’ a hole in the hedge. But 
whin he came to a turn in the road, the dickens he minded 
the market, but wint off to the Squire’s to swear examina¬ 
tions a<nn’ the cat. But when he was asked to relate the 
evints ov the morning, his brain was so bewildered between 
his corn an’ the cat, an’ the child’s toe, that he made a con¬ 
fused account. 

“ Begin your story from the beginning,” said the magis¬ 
trate. 

“Well,—plaze your honor,”—says Tom, “ 1 was goin’ 
to market, this morning, to sell the child’s—corn—I beg 
yer pardon—my own toes—I mane, Sir,”- 

“ Sell yer toes ?” said the Squire. 

“No, sir ; takin’ the cat to market—I mane.” 

“Take a cat to market?” said the Squire; “you’re 
drunk, man.” 

“ No,—yer honor—only confused, for when the toes be¬ 
gan to spake to me—the cat, I mane—I was bothered 
clane-” 

“ The cat speak to you ?” said the Squire. “ Phew ! 
worse than before—you’re drunk.” 

“ No, yer honor,—it’s on the strength ov the cat I come 
to spake to you ! ” 

“ I think it’s on the strength ov a pint ov whiskey, 
Tom!” 

“ By the vartue ov my oath, yer honor, it’s nothin’ but 
the cat ” Then Tom told him about the affair, an’ the 
Squire was astonished. The bishop of the diocese and the 
priest ov the parish came in and had a tough argument ov 
two hours on the subject, one saying she must be a witch, 
an’ the other, she was only enchanted. The magistrate 
pulled down all the law books in his library, and looked 
over the laws, but he found nothing agin’ cats. “ There s 



SPEECHIANA. 


29 


the Alien Act,” says the Squire; “ an perhaps she’s a 
Frinch spy in disguise.” 

“ She spakes like a Frinch spy, sure enough,” says Tom. 

“I’ve a fresh idea,” says the magistrate. 

“ Faix, it won’t kape frish long this weather,” says Tom. 

“ We’ll hunt her under the game laws,” says the magis¬ 
trate. “Meet me at the cross roads in the mornin’, an’ 
we’ll have the hounds ready.” 

Well, off Tom went home, racking his brains for an ex¬ 
cuse for not bringin’ the shoes ; an’ he saw the cat canter¬ 
ing up to him, half a mile before he got home. 

“ Where’s the shoes, Tom ?” says she. 

“ I’ve not got ’em to-day, ma’am,” says he. 

“ Is that the way you keep your promise, Tom ?” says 
she. “ I’ll tell you what it is, Tom, I’ll tear the eyes out 
ov the childhre, if you don’t get me shoes.” 

“ Whist, whist!” says Tom, frightened out ov his life. 
“ Don’t be in a passion, pussy ! The shoemaker hadn’t a 
shoe nor a last to make one to fit you, an’ he says I must 
bring you into the town for him to take your measure.” 

“ An’ whin ?” says the cat. 

“ To-morrow,” says Tom. 

“ It’s well ye said that, Tom, or the divil an eye I d lave 
in yer family this night,” said the cat, an’ off she hopped. 

Tom thrimbled at the wicked look she gave him. 

“ Remember!” she said, over the hedge, wid a bitter 

caterwaul. . , , A , 

\\ ell, sure eno’, the nixt mornin , there was the cat lick¬ 
in’ herself as nate as a new pin to go into the town, an’ out 
came Tom wid a bag under his arm. . w 

“ Now git into this, an’ I’ll carry you into town, says 

Tom. opening the bag. 

“ Shure I can walk wid you, says the cat 

“Oh, that wouldn’t do,” says Tom, “ the people is slan¬ 
derous, an’share itw’d rise ugly remarks it I was seen 
with a cat afther me. A dog is a man s companion by na¬ 
ture, but cats doesn’t stand to raison.”. 

Well, the cat got into the bag, an off set Tom to the 


30 


SPEECHIANA. 


cross roads, whin the Squire, an’ the huntsmen, an 5 the 
hounds, an’ the pack ov people were waitin.” 

“ What’s that b ag you have at yer back ?” says the 
Squire,—makin’ believe he knew nothing. 

“ Oh, nothing at all,” says Tom, with a wink. 

“ Oh, there’s something in that bag,” says the Squire, 
“ Let me see it!” 

“ If you bethray me, Tom O’Connor,” says the cat, in a 
low voice, “ by this an’ by that, I’ll niver spake to you 
agin!” 

“I’ve been missin’ my praties ov late,” said the Squire, 
“ an’ I’d just like to examine that bag.” 

“ Is it doubting my characther you’d be, sir ?” says 
Tom. 

“ Tom, your sowl!” says the voice in the sack. “If you 
let the cat out of the bag I’ll murther you!” 

The Squire insisted on searching, an’ laid hold ov the 
bag, Tom pretinding to fight all the time ; but, my jewel, 
before two minutes they shook the cat out ov the bag, an’ 
off she wint wid her tail as big as a sweeping brush, an’ 
the Squire wid a thunderin’ view halloo afther her, clapt 
the dogs at her her heels, an’ away they wint for their bare 
life. Never was there seen such runnin’ as that. The cat 
made for a shakin’ bog, an’ there the riders were all thrown 
out, barrin’ the huntsman who had a web-footed horse, an’ 
the praist; an’ they stuck to the hunt like wax ; an’ they 
said the cat gave a twist as the foremost dog closed with 
her on the border ov the bog, for he gave her a nip in the 
flank. Still she wint on, towards an old mud cabin in the 
middle ov the bog ; an’ they saw her jump in at the win¬ 
dow, an’ up came the dogs an’ set up a terrible howling. 
The huntsman alighted an’ wint into the house, an’ what 
should he see but an old hag lying in bed in the corner. 

ci Did you see a cat come in here ?” says he. 

“ Oh, n-o-o-o,” squealed the old hag in a trembling voice. 

“ there’s no cat here.” 

“ Yelp ! yelp ! yelp!” wint the dogs outside. 

“ Oh, keep the dogs out ov this,” squealed the old hag. 


SPEECHIANA. 


31 


“ Oh-o-o,” and the huntsman saw her eyes glare under the 
blanket, just like a cat’s. 

“ [Iiilo !” says he, pullin’ down the blanket, an’ there 
was her flank all in a gore of blood ! u Ow, ow, ow, you 
old witch an’ divil, is it you—you owld cat?” says he open¬ 
ing the door. 

In rushed the dogs ; up jumped the witch, an’ changin’ 
to a cat before their eyes, out she darted through the win¬ 
dow ; but she could not escape, an’ the dogs gobbled her 
while you could say Jack Robinson. 

But the most remarkable part ov the story is, that the 
pack of hounds, after having eaten the enchanted cat, the 
divil a thing they would ever hunt afterwards but mice. 


SHAMUS O’BRIEN, THE BOLD BOY OF 
GLINGALL. 

A TALE OF ’98. 

SAMUEL LOV1R. 

Jist afther the war, in the year ’98, 

As soon as the boys wor all scattered and bate, 

’Twas the custom, whenever a pisant was got, 

To hang him by thrial—barrin’ sich as was shot. 

There was trial by jury goin’ on by daylight, 

And the martial-law hangin’ the lavins by night. 

It’s them was hard times for an honest gossoon: 

If he missed in the judges—he’d meet a dragoon ; 

An’ whether the sodgers or judges gev sentence. 

The divil a much time they allowed for repentance. 

An’ it’s many’s the fine boy was then on his keepin’ 

Wid small share iv restin’, or atin’ or sleepin’, 

An’ because they loved Erin, an’ scorned to sell it, 

A prey for the bloodhound, a mark for the bullet— 
Unsheltered by night, and unrested by day, 

With the heath for their barrack, revenge for their pay ; 
An’ the bravest and hardiest boy iv them all 
Was Shamus O’Brien, from the town iv Glingall. 



32 


SPEECHIANA. 


His limbs were well set, an’ his body was light, 

An’ the keen-fanged hound had not teeth half so white, 

But his face was as pale as the face of the dead, 

And his cheek never warmed with the blush of the red; 
An’ for all that he wasn’t an ugly young bye, 

For the divil himself couldn’t blaze with his eye, 

So droll an’ so wicked, so dark and so bright, 

Like a fire-flash that crosses the depth of the night. 

An’ he was the best mower that ever has been, 

An’ the illigantest hurler that ever was seen. 

An’ his dancin’ was sich that the men used to stare, 

An’ the women turn crazy he done it so quare ; 

An’, by gorra, the whole world gev it into him there. 

An’ it’s he was the boy that was hard to be caught, 

An’ it’s often he run, an’ it’s often he fought, 

An’ it’s many the one can remember right well 
The quare things he done: an’ it’s often I heerd tell 
How he lathered the yeomen, himself agin’ four, 

An’ stretched the two strongest on old G-altimore. 

But the fox must sleep sometimes, the wild deer must rest 
An’ treachery prey on the blood iv the best; 

Afthcr many a brave action of power and pride, 

An’ many a hard night on the mountain’s bleak side, 

An’ a thousand great dangers and toils overpast, 

In the darkness of night he was taken at last. 

Now, Shamus, iook back on the beautiful moon, . 

For the door of the prison must close on you soon, 

An’ take your last look at her dim lovely light, 

That falls on the mountain and valley this night; 

One look at the village, one look at the flood, 

An’ one at the sheltliering, far-distant wood; 

Farewell to the forest, farewell to the hill, 

An’ farewell to the friends who will think of you still; 
Farewell to the pathern, the hurlin’ an’ wake, 

An’ farewell to the girl that would die for your sake. 

An’ twelve sodgers brought him to Maryborough jail, 

An’ the turnkey resaved him, refusin’ all bail; 



SPEECHIANA. 


33 


The fleet limbs wor chained, an’ the sthrong hands wor 
bound, 

An’ he laid down his length on the cowld prison ground, 
An’ the dreams of his childhood kem over him there 
As gentle an’ soft as the sweet summer air ; 

An’ happy remembrances crowding on ever, 

As fast as the foam-flakes dhrift down on the river, 
Bringing fresh to his heart merry days long gone by, 

Till the tears gathered heavy and thick in his eye. 

But the tears didn’t fall, for the pride of his heart 
Would not suffer one drop down his pale cheek to start; 
An’ he sprang to his feet in the dark prison cave, 

An’ he swore with the fierceness that misery gave, 

By the hopes of the good, an’ the cause of the brave. 

That when he was mouldering in the cold grave 

His enemies never should have it to boast 

His scorn of their vengeance one moment was lost; 

His bosom might bleed, but his cheek should be dhry, 

For, undaunted he lived, and undaunted he’d die. 

Well, as soon as a few weeks was over and gone, 

The terrible day iv the thrial kem on, 

There was sich a crowd there was scarce room to stand, 
An’ sodgers on guard, an* dhragoons sword-in-hand; 

An’ the court-house so full that the people were bothered, 
An’ attorneys an’ criers on the point iv bein’ smothered ; 
An’ counsellors almost gev over for dead, 

An, the jury sittin’ up in their box overhead ; 

An’ the judge settled out so detarmined an’ big, 

Wi h his gown on his back, and an llligant new wig; 

An’ silence was called, an’ the minute it was said. 

The court was as still as the heart of the dead, 

An’ they heard but the openin’ of one prison lock, 

An’ Shamus O’Brien kem into the dock. 

For one minute he turned his eye round on the throng, 

An’ he looked at the bars so firm and so strong, 

An’ he saw that he he had not a hope nor a friend, 

A chance to escape, nor a word to defend ; 


34 


SPEECHIANA. 


An’ he folded his arms as he stood there alone, 

As calm and as cold as a statue of stone ; 

And they read a big writing a yard long at laste, 

An’ Jim didn’t understand it nor mind it a taste, 

An’ the Judge took a big pinch iv snuff, and he says,^ 

“ Are you guilty or not, Jim OBrien, av you plaze ?” 

An’ all held their breath in the silence of dhread, 

An’ Shamus O’Brien made answer and said: 
u My lord, if you ask me if in my life-time 
I thought any treason, or did any crime 
That should call to my cheek, as I stand alone here, 
The hot blush of shame, or the coldness of fear, 

Though I stood by the grave to receive my death-blow, 
Before God and the world I would answer you, no ! 
But if you would ask me, as I think it like, 

If in the rebellion I carried a pike, 

An’ fought for ould Ireland from the first to the close, 
An’ shed the heart’s blood of her bitterest foes, 

I answer you. yes ; and I tell you again, 

Though I stand here to perish, it’s my glory that then 
In her cause I was willing my veins should run dhry, 
An’ that now for her sake I am ready to die.” 

Then the silence was great, and the jury smiled bright, 
An’ the judge wasn’t sorry the job was made light; 

By my sowl, it’s himself was the crabbed ould chap ! 

In a twinklin’ he pulled on his ugly black cap. 

Then Shamus’ mother in the crowd standin’ by, 

Called out to the judge with a pitiful cry : 

“ 0, judge ! darlin’, don’t, O, don’t say the word! 

The craythur is young, have mercy, my lord; 

He was foolish, he didn’t know what he was doin’; 
You don’t know him, my lord—O, don’t give him to 
He’s the kindliest crathur, the tendherest-hearted ; 
Don’t part us forever, we that’s so long parted. 

Judge, mavonrneen, forgive him, forgive him, my lord 
An’ God will forgive you—O, dont say the word !” 


SPEECHIANA. 


35 


That was the first minute that O’Brien was shaken, 

When he saw that he was not quite forgot or forsaken; 

An’ down his pale cheeks, at the word of his mother, 

The big tears wor runnin’ fast, one afther th’other ; 

An’ two or three times he eudeavored to spake, 

But the sthrong, manly voice used to falther and break ; 

But at last, by the strength of his high-mounting pride, 
lie conquered and masthered his grief’s swelling tide, 

“ An’,” says he, “ mother, darlin’, don’t break your poor 
heart 

For, sooner or later, the dearest must part; 

An’ God knows it’s betther than wandering in fear 
On the bleak, trackless mountain, among the wild deer, 

To lie in the grave, where the head, heart, and breast, 
From thought, labor, and sorrow, forever shall rest. 

Then, mother, my darlin’, don’t cry any more, 

Don’t make me seem broken, in this, my last hour; 

For I wish, when my head’s lyin’ undher the raven, 

No thrue man can say that I died like a craven !” 

Then towards the judge Shamus bent down his head, 

An’ that minute the solemn death-sentince was said. 

The mornin’ was bright, an’ the mists rose on high, 

An’ the lark whistled merrilly in the clear sky; 

But why are the men standin’ idle so late? 

An’ why do the crowds gather fast in the street ? 

What come they to talk of? what come they to see ? 

An’ why does the long rope hang from the cross-tree ? 

0, Shamus O’Brien ! pray fervent and fast, 

May the saints take your soul, for this day is your last; 
Pray fast an’ pray sthrong, for the moment is nigh, 

When, sthrong, proud, and great as you are, you must die. 
An’ fasther an’ fasther, the crowd gathered there, 

Boys, horses, and gingerbread, just like a fair ; 

An’ whiskey was sellin’, an’ cussamuck, too, 

An’ ould men and young woman enjoying the view, 

An’ ould Tim Mulvany, he med the remark, 

That there wasn’t sich a sight since the time of Noah s ark, 


SPEECHIANA. 


An’ be gorry, ’twas thrne for him, for divil sich a scruge, 
Sich divarshin an crowds, was known since the deluge ; 
For thousands were gathered there, if there was one, 
Waitin’ till such time as the hangin’ id come on. 

At last they threw open the big prison-gate, 

An’ out came the sheriffs and sodgers in state. 

An’ a cart in the middle, an’ Shames was in it, 

Not paler, but prouder than ever, that minute. 

An’ as soon as the people saw Shames O’Brien, 

Wid prayin’ an’ blessin’, and all the girls cryin’, 

A wild wailin’ sound kem on by degrees, 

Like the sound of the lonesome wind blowin’ through trees* 
On, on to the gallows the sheriffs are gone, 

An’ the cart an’ the sodgers go steadily on. 

An’ at every side swellin’ around of the cart, 

A wild, sorrowful sound, that id open your heart. 

Now under the gallows the cart takes its stand, 

An’ the hangman gets up with the rope in his hand; 

An’ the priest havin’ blest him, goes down on the ground. 
An’ Shames O'Brien throws one last look round. 

Then the hangman dhrew near, an’ the people grew still, 
Young faces turned sickly, and warm hearts turn chill; 

An’ the rope bein’ ready, his neck was made bare, 

For the grip iv the life-strangling cord to prepare; 

An’ the good priest has left him, havin’ said his last prayer. 
But the good priest done more, for his hands he unbound, 
And with one daring spring Jim has leaped on the ground; 
Bang ! bang! goes the carbines, and clash goes the sabres ; 
He’s not down ! he’s alive still! now stand to him, neigh¬ 
bors ! 

Through the smoke and the horses he’s into the crowd,—• 
By the heavens, lie’s free !—than thunder more loud, 

By one shout from the people the heavens were shaken-*- 
One shout that the dead of the world might awaken. 

The sodgers ran this way, the sheriffs ran that, 

An’ Father Malone lost his new Sunday hat; 

To-night he’ll be sleepin’ in Aherloe Glin, 


■MlfiMH 






SPEECHIANA. 


37 


An’ the divil’s in the dice if you catch him ag’in. 

Your swords they may glitter, your carbines go bang. 
But if you want hangin’, it’s yourself you must hang. 

He has mounted his horse, and soon he will be 
In America, darlint, the land of the free. 


NORMAN LESLIE’S ADDRESS TO THE JURY. 

Gentlemen : I am now about to speak the last words of 
hope or defence that stand between me and that vast 
eternity in which your next words may launch me. I start 
at the awful responsibility, and almost shrink beneath it; 
and, were I alone upon this world’s wide stage, perhaps I 
might yield to the current that sets so steadily against me ; 
but a father’s silvery locks bend o’er the grave for the in¬ 
famy of an only son,—a sister’s virtue crimsoned with 
shame ne’er felt before,—friends that have loved me, com¬ 
panions that have trusted, all shall suffer in the odium of 
my branded name. For their sake, for the sake of human 
nature, I will not fall unvindicated or unheard. Murder 
Rosalie Romain l I would have shielded her, or anything 
that bore the name of Woman! Would I not have fled 
with the curse of Cain upon my soul ? Dared I have 
rushed before the anguished father, still reeking with the 
daughter’s blood? Would I have borne with me the blood¬ 
stained evidence of my guilt to damn me to that perdition I 
merited ? No ! Then I charge you, as you are fathers, 
friends, and men, to weigh well the verdict that you render ; 
beware, lest, in attempting to punish crime, you do not 
yourselves commit it. Think if Rosalie Romain should 
ever re-appear—think on the hearts you have withered. 
The soul you have crushed will rise appalling before your 
view, and whisper in your dying ear, “ Even as you did 
judge, so shall you be judged!” Gentlemen, I have done ; 
in your hands I commit my life. Go, and may the vast 
eternity teach you to j udge aright. 



38 


SPEECHIANA. 


OUT OF THE OLD HOUSE, NANCY. 

WM. M. CA.RLETON. 

Out of the old house, Nancy—moved up into the new ; 

All the hurry and worry are just as good as through ; 

Only a boundeu duty remains for you and I, 

And that’s to stand on the doorstep, here, and bid the old 
house good-bye. 

What a shell we’ve lived in, these nineteen or twenty years ! 

Wonder it hadn’t smashed in and tumbled about our ears ; 

Wonder it stuck together and answered till to-day, 

But every individual log was put up here to stay. 

Things looked rather new, though, when this old house was 
built, 

And things that blossomed you, would have made some 
women wilt; 

And every other day, then, as sure as day would break, 

My neighbor Ager come this way, invitin’ me to “ shake.” 

And you, for want of neighbors, was sometimes blue and 
sad, 

For wolves and bears and wildcats was the nearest ones you 
had ; 

But lookin’ ahead to the clearin’, we worked with all our 
might. 

Until we was fairly out of the woods, and things was goin’ 
right. 

Look up there at our new house,—ain’t it a thing to see ? 

Tall and big and handsome, and new as new can be; 

All in apple-pie order, especially the shelves, 

And never a debtor to say but what we own it all ourselves. 

Look at our old log house—how little it now appears ! 

But it’s never gone back on us, for nineteen or twenty years ; 




SPEECHIANA. 


39 


An’ I won’t go back on it now, or go to pokin’ fun,! 

There’s such a thing as praisin’ a thing for the good that it 
has done. 

Probably you remember how rich we was that night, 

"Alien we was fairly settled, an’ had things snug and tight; 

We feel as proud as you please, Nancy, over our house 
that’s new, 

But we felt as proud under this old roof, and a good deal 
prouder, too. 

Never a handsomer house was seen beneath the sun,— 

Kitchen and parlor aod bedroom, we had ’em all in one ; 

And the fat old wooden clock that we bought when we come 
West, 

Was tickin’ away in the corner there, an’ doin’ its level 
best. 

Trees was all around us, a whisperin’ cheering words,. 

Loud was the squirrel s chatter, and sweet the song of birds ; 

And home grew sweeter and brighter—our courage began 
to mount— 

And things looked hearty and happy, then, and work ap¬ 
peared to count. 

And here, one night it happened, when things was goin’ bad, 

We fell in a deep old quarrel—the first we ever had * 

And when you gave out and cried, then I like a tool ga\e 

An' then we agreed to rub it all out, and start the thing 
ag’in. 

Here it was, you remember, we sat when the dav was done, 

And vou was a makin’ clothing that wasn t for either one ; 

And "often a soft word of love I was soft enough to say, 

And the wolves was howlin’ in the woods not twenty rods 
away. 


40 


SPEECHIANA. 


Then our first-born baby—a regular little joy— 

Though I fretted a little, because it wasn’t a boy; 

Wa’n’t she a litttle flirt, though, with all her pouts and 
smiles ? 

Why ; settlers come to see that show, a half a dozen miles. 

Yonder sat the cradle—a homely, home-made thing; 

And many a night I rocked it, providin’ you would sing; 
And many a little squatter brought up with us to stay, 

And so that cradle, for many a year, was never put away. 

How they kept a cornin’—so cunnin’ and fat and small! 
How they growled! ’twas a wonder how we found room 
for ’em all; 

But though the house was crowded, it empty seemed that 
day, _ 

When Jennie lay by the fire-place, there, and moaned her 
life away. 

And right in there, the preacher, with Bible and hymn-book 
stood, 

“’Twixt the dead and the living,” and “hoped ’twould do 
us good.” 

And the little white wood coffin on the table there was set, 
And now as 1 rub my eyes it seems as if I could see it yet. 

Then that fit of sickness it brought on you, you know ; 

Just by a thread you hung, and you e’en a’most leg go ; 
And here is the spot I tumbled, and give the Lord His due, 
When the doctor said the fever’d turned, an’ he could fetch 
you through. 

Yes, a deal has happened to make this old house dear: 
Christenin’s, funerals, weddin’s—what haven’t we had here? 
Not a log in this buildin’ but its memories has got,— 

And not a nail in this old floor but touches a tender spot. 

Out of the old house, Nancy—moved up into the new ; 

All the hurry and worry is just as good as through ; 



SPEECHIANA. 


41 


But I tell you a thing right here, that I ain’t ashamed to 
say : . 

There’s precious things in this old house, we never can take 
away. 

Here the old house will stand, but not as it stood before ; 

Winds will whistle through it and rains will flood the floor ; 

And over the hearth once blazing, the snow drifts oft will 
pile, 

And the old thing will seem to be a mournin’ all the while. 

Fare you well, old house ! you’re naught that can feel or see, 

But you seem like a human being—a dear old friend to me ; 

And we never will have a better home, if my opinion 
stands, 

Until we commence a keepin’ house in the “ house not made 
with hands.” 


MELTING MOMENTS. 

ANONYMOUS. 

One winter evening, a country storekeeper in the Green 
Mountain State was about closing his doors for the night, 
when, while standing in the snow outside, putting up his 
window-shutters, he saw through the glass a lounging, 
worthless fellow within take half a pound of fresh butter 
from the shelf, and hastily conceal it in his hat. 

The act was no sooner detected than the revenge was hit 
upon, and a very few moments found the Green Mountain 
storekeeper at once indulging his appetite for fun to the 
fullest extent, and paying off the thief with a facetious sort 
of torture, for which he might have gained a premium from 
the old Inquisition. 

“ Stay, Seth !” said the storekeeper, coming in, and clos¬ 
ing the door after him, slapping his hands over his shoul¬ 
ders, and stamping the snow off his shoes. 

Seth had his hand on the door, and his hat upon his head, 



42 


SPEECHIANA. 


and the roll of butter in his hat, anxious to make his exit as 
soon as possible. 

u Seth, we’ll have a little warm Santa Cruz,” said the 
Green Mountain grocer, as he opened the stove door, and 
stuffed in as many sticks as the space would admit. 
“ Without it, you’d freeze going home such a night as 
this.” 

Seth felt very uncertain ; he had the butter, and was ex¬ 
ceedingly anxious to be off, but the temptation of “ some¬ 
thing warm ” sadly interfered with his resolution to go. 
This hesitation, however, was soon settled by the right 
owner of the butter taking Seth by the shoulders and plant¬ 
ing him in a seat close to the stove, where he was in such 
a manner cornered in by barrels and boxes that, while the 
country grocer sat before him, there was no possibility of 
his getting out; and right in this very place, sure enough, 
the storekeeper sat down. 

Seth already felt the butter settling down closer to his 
hair, and declared he must go. 

“ Not till you have something warm, Seth. Come, I’ve 
got a story to tell you, Seth ; sit down now.” And Seth 
was again pushed into his seat by his cunning tormentor. 

“ Oh, it’s too hot here!” said the petty thief, again at¬ 
tempting to rise. 

“ I say, Seth, sit down ; I reckon now, on such a night 
as this, a little something warm wouldn’t hurt a fellow; 
come, sit down.” 

“ Sit down,—don’t be in such a plaguy hurry,” repeated 
the grocer, pushing him back into his chair. 

“ But I’ve got the cows to fodder, and some wood to 
split, and I must be a goin’,” continued the persecuted 
chap. 

“ But you mustn’t tear yourself away, Seth, in this man¬ 
ner. Sit down ; let the cows take care of themselves, and 
keep yourself cool; you appear to be fidgety,” said the gro¬ 
cer, with a wicked leer. 

The next thing was the production of two smoking 
glasses of hot rum toddy, the very sight of which in Seth’s 


SPEECHIANA, 


43 


present situation would have made the hair stand erect 
upon his head, had it not been oiled and kept down by the 
butter. 

u Seth, Ill give you a toast now, and you can butter it 
yourself,” said the grocer, yet with an air of such consum¬ 
mate simplicity, that poor Seth still believed himself unsus¬ 
pected. “ Seth, here’s—here’s a Christmas goose, well 
roasted and basted, eh ? I tell you, Seth, it’s the greatest 
eating in creation. And, Seth, don’t you use hog’s fat or 
common cooking butter to baste a goose with. Come, take 
your butter—I mean, Seth, take your toddy.” 

Poor Seth now began to smoke as well as to melt , and 
his mouth was as hermetically sealed up as though he had 
been born dumb. Streak after streak of the butter came 
pouring from under his hat, and his handkerchief was al¬ 
ready soaked with the greasy overflow. Talking away as 
if nothing was the matter, the grocer kept stuffing the wood 
in the stove, while poor Seth sat bolt upright with his back 
against the counter, and his knees almost touching the red- 
hot furnace before him. 

kf Very cold night this,” said the grocer. “ Why, Seth, 
you seem to perspire as if you were warm ! Why don’t 
you take your hat off? Here, let me put your hat away.” 

“ No!” exclaimed poor Seth at last, with a spasmodic 
effort to get his tongue loose, and clapping both hands upon 
his hat,—no !—I must go—let me out—I ain’t well—let 
me go!” 

A greasy cataract was now pouring down the poor fel¬ 
low’s face and neck, and soaking into his clothes, and 
trickling down his body into his very boots, so that he was 
literally in a perfect bath of oil. 

“ Well, good night, Seth,” said the humorous Vermont¬ 
er, “ if you ivill go ; ” adding, as Seth got out into the road, 
“ Neighbor, I reckon the fun I’ve had out of you is worth 
sixpence ; so I sha’n’t charge you for that half-pound of 
butter.” 



44 


SPEECHIANA. 


THE DRUMMER-BOY’S BURIAL. 

harpers’ magazine. 

All day long ’.he storm of battle through the startled valley 
swept; 

All night long the stars in heaven o’er the slain sad vigils 
kept. 

Oh the ghastly upturned faces gleaming whitely through the 
night! 

Oh the heaps of mangled corses in that dim sepulchral light! 

One by one the pale stars faded, and at length the morning 
broke; 

But not one of all the sleepers on that field of death awoke. 

Slowly passed the golden hours of that long bright summer 
day, 

And upon that field of carnage still the dead unburied lay. 

Lay there stark and cold, but pleading with a dumb, urn 
ceasing prayer, 

For a little dust to hide them from the staring sun and air. 

But the foeman held possession of that hard-won battle 
plain, 

In unholy wrath denying even burial to our slain. 

Once again the night dropped round them—night so holy 
and so calm 

That the moonbeams hushed the spirit, like the sound of 
prayer or psalm. 

On a couch of trampled grasses, just apart from all the rest, 

Lay a fair young boy, with small hands meekly folded on 
his breast. 




SPEECHIANA. 


45 


Death had touched him very gently, and he lay as if in 
sleep ; 

Even his mother scarce had shuddered at that slumber calm 
and deep. 

For a smile of wondrous sweetness lent a radiance to the 
face, 

And the hand of cunning sculptor could have added naught 
of grace 

To the marble limbs so perfect in their passionless repose, 

Robbed of all save matchless purity by hard, unpitying foes. 

And the broken drum beside him all his life's short story 
told : 

How he did his duty bravely till the death-tide o’er him 
rolled. 

Midnight came with ebon garments and a diadem of stars, 

While right upward in the zenith hung the fiery planet 
Mars. 

Hark! a sound of stealthy footsteps and of voices whisper¬ 
ing low, 

Was it nothing but the young leaves, or the brooklet’s mur¬ 
muring flow ? 

Clinging closely to each other, striving never to look round 

As they passed with silent shudder the pale corses on the 
ground. 

Came two little maidens,—sisters,-—with a light and hasty 
tread, 

And a look upon their faces, half of sorrow, half of dread. 

And they did not pause nor falter till, with throbbing 
hearts, they stood 

Where the drummer-boy was lying in that partial solitude. 


46 


SPEECH! A.NA. 


^BB 

They had brought some simple garments from their ward- j 
robe’s scanty store. 

And two heavy iron shovels in their slender hands they 
bore. 

Then they quickly knelt beside him, crushing back the pity¬ 
ing tears, 

For they had no time for weeping, nor for any girlish fears. 

And they robed the icy body, while ’no glow of maiden 
shame 

Changed the pallor of their foreheads to a flush of lambent 
flame. ; 

For their saintly hearts yearned o’er it in that hour of sorest 
need, 

And they felt that Death was holy, and it sanctified the 
deed. 

But they smiled and kissed each other when their new 
strange task was o’er, 

And the form that lay before them its unwonted garments 
wore. 

Then with slow and weary labor a small grave they hol¬ 
lowed out, 

And they lined it with the withered grass and leaves that 
lay about. 

But the day was slowly breaking ere their holy work was 
done, 

And m crimson pomp the morning again heralded the sun. 

And then those little maidens—they were children of our 

foes— 

Laid the body of our .drummer-boy to undisturbed repose. 




SPEECHIANA, 


47 


THE RETURN OF THE DEAD. 

PROCTOR. 

Low hung the moon, the wind was still, 

As lone I climbed the midnight hill, 

And passed the ruined garden o’er, 

And gained the barred and silent door, 

Sad welcomed by the lingering rose 
That, startled, shed its waning snows. 

The bolt flew back with sudden clang: 

I entered : wall and rafter rang ; 

Down dropped the moon, and, clear and high, 
September’s wind went wailing by ; 

“Alas!” I sighed, “the love and glow 
That lit this mansion long ago !” 

And groping up the threshold stair. 

And past the chambers cold and bare, 

I sought the room where glad of yore 
We sat the blazing fire before, 

And heard the tales a father told, 

Till glow was gone, and evening old. 

Where were those rosy children three ? 

The boy beneath the moaning sea ; 

Sweet Margaret, down where violets hide, 

Slept, tranquil, by that fafher’s side ; 

And I, alone, a pilgrim still, 

Was left to climb the midnight hill. 

My hand was on the latch, when lo! 

’Twas lifted from within ! I know 
I was not wild, and could I dream? 

Within 1 saw the wood-fire gleam, 

And smiling, waiting, beckoning there, 

My father, in his ancient chair! 

Oh, the long rapture, perfect rest, 

As close he clasped me to his breast! 


48 


SPEECHIANA. 


Put back the braids the wind had blown* 
Said I had like my mother grown, 

And bade me tell him, frank as she. 

All the lone years had brought to me. 

Then by his side, his hand in mine, 

I tasted joy serene, divine, 

And saw my griefs unfolding fair 
As flowers in June’s enchanted air. 

So warm his words, so soft his sighs, 
Such tender lovelight in his eyes. 

w O Death!” I cried, “if these be thine. 
For me the asphodels entwine ; 

Fold me within thy perfect calm ; 

Leave on my lips thy kiss of balm ; 

And let me slumber, pillowed low, 

With Margaret where the violets blow.” 

And still we talked. O’er cloudy bars 
Orion bore his pomp of stars ; 

Within, the wood-fire fainter glowed ; 
Weird on the wall the shadows showed; 
Till, in the east, a pallor born 
Told midnight melting into morn. 

Then nearer to his side I drew, 

W hen lo ! the cock remorsely, crew! 

A glance, a sigh—we did not speak— 
Fond kisses on my brow and cheek, 

A sudden sense of rapture flown, 

And in the dawn I sat alone ! 

* * * * * 


SPEECHIANA. 


49 


JIM WOLFE AND THE CATS. 

ANONYMOUS. 

We was all boys, then, an’ didn’t care for nothin’ only 
heow to shirk school, and to keep up a revivin’ state o’ dev¬ 
ilment all the time. This yah Jim Wolfe I was talkin’ 
about, was the prentice, an’ he was the best hearted feller, 
he was, an’ the most forgivin’ and onselfish, I ever see— 
well, there couldn’t be a more bullier boy than what Jim 
was, take him heow you would ; and sorry enough I was 
when I see him for the last time. 

Me an’ Henry was allers pesterin’ him, an’ plasterin’ hoss 
bills on his back an’ puttin’ bumble-bees in his bed, and so 
on, and sometimes we’d jist creowd in an’ bunk with him, 
not’standin’ his growlin’, and then we’d let on to git mad 
an’ fight acrost him, so as to keep him stirred up like. He 
was nineteen he was, an’ long, an’ lank, an’ bashful, an’ 
we was fifteen an’ sixteen, an’ pretty tolerabul lazy an’ 
wuthless. 

So, that night, you know, that my sister Mary gin the 
candy pullin’, they started us off to bed airly, so as the 
comp’ny could have full swing, and we rung in on Jim tew 
have some fun. 

Wall, our winder looked out outer the ruff of the ell, an’ 
about ten o’clock a couple of old Tom cats got to rairin’ an’ 
chargin’ reound on it, an’ carryin’ on jist like sin. 

There was four inches o’ snow on the ruff, and it froze so 
that there was a right smart crust of ice on it, an’ the moon 
was shinin bright, an’ we could see them cats jist like day- 
light. 

Fust they’d stand off, e-yow-yow-yow, jist the same as if 
they was a cussin’ one another, you know, an’ bow up their 
backs, an’ bush up their tails, an’ swell around, an’ spit, 
an’ then all of a suddin the gray cat he’d snatch a handful 
of fur off the yaller cat’s back, an’ spin him areound jist like 
a button on a barn door. But the yaller cat was game, 
and he’d come an’ clinch, an’ the way they’d gouge, an’ bite, 
an’ howl, and the way they’d make the fur fly, was peower- 
ful. 


50 


SPEECHIANA. 


Wall, Jim he jist got disgusted with the row, and ’lowed 
.ie’d climb out there, and shake’m off’n that ruff. He 
hadn’t reely no notion o’ doin’ it, likely, but we everlastingly 
dogged him, an’ bullyragged him, an’ ’lowed he’d allers 
bragged heow he wouldn’t take a dare, an’ so on, till bime- 
by he jist histed the winder, an’ lo and behold you! he 
went—went exactly as he was—nothin on but his shirt. 
You ought to a seen him ! You ought to seen him creepin’ 
over that ice, an’ diggin’ his toe nails an’ finger nails in, fur 
tew keep him from slippin’; and,’bove all, you ought to seen 
that shirt a flappin’ in the wind, and them long ridicklous 
shanks of his’n a glistenin’ in the moonlight. 

Them comp’ny folks was down there under the eaves, an’ 
the whole squad of ’em under that ornery shed o’ dead 
Wash’ton Bower vines—all settin’reound two dozzen sas- 
sers o’ bilin hot candy, which they’d sot in the snow to cool. 
And they was laughin’ an’ talkin’ lively ; but, bless you, 
they didn’t know nothin’ ’bout the panorammy that was 
goin’ on over their heads. 

Wall, Jim he jist went a sneakin’ an’ a sneakin’ up unbe- 
knowns to them tom-cats—they was a swishiu’ their tails, 
and yow-yowin’ an’ threatenin’ to clinch, you know, an’ not 
payin’ any attention—he went a sneakin’ an’ a sneakin’ 
right up to the comb of the ruff, till he got in a foot an’ a 
half of ’em, an’ then all of a suddin he made a grab fur the 


yaller cat! But, by gosh, he missed fire, an’ slipped his 


holt, an’ his heels flew up, an’ he flopped on his back, and 
shot off’n that ruff jist like a dart!—went a smashin’ and 
a crashin’ deown thro’ them old rusty vines, an’ landid right 
in the dead centre of all them comp’ny people—sot deown 
jist like a yeartliquake in them two dozzen sassers of red- 
hot candy, and let off a howl that was hark from the tomb ! 
Them gals—wall, they left, you know. They see he warn’t 
dressed for comp’ny, an’ so they left—vamoused. All done 
in a second ; it was jist one little war-whoop and a whish 
of their dresses, and blame the one of ’em was in sight any¬ 
where ! 





SPEECHIANA. 


51 


Jim, he war in sight. He war gormed with the bilin’ 
hot molasses candy clean deown to his heels, an’ more 
busted sassers hangin’ to him than if he was a Injun prin¬ 
cess—an’ he came a prancin’ up stairs jist a whoopin’ an’ a 
cussin’, an’ every jump he gin he shed some sassers, an’ 
every squirm he fetched he dripped some candy ! an’ blis¬ 
tered ! why, bless your soul, that pore creetur couldn’t reely 
set deown comfortable fur as much as four weeks. 


MOUSE-HUNTING. 

AN INCIDENT IN THE LIFE OF MRS. PARTINGTON. 

B. P. SHELIiABER. 

It was midnight, deep and still, in the mansion of Mrs. 
iPartmgton,—as it was, very generally about town,—on a 
cold night in March. So profound was the silence that it 
awakened Mrs. 1'., and she raised herself upon her elbow 
to listen. No sound greeted her ears, save the tick of the 
old wooden clock in the next room, which stood there in 
the dark, like an old crone, whispering and gibbering to it¬ 
self. Mrs. Partington relapsed beneath the folds of the blan¬ 
kets, and had one eye again well-coaxed towards the realm 
of dreams, while the other was holding by a very frail 
tenure upon the world of reality, when her ear was saluted 
by the nibble of a mouse, directly beneath her chamber 
window, and the mouse was evidently gnawing her cham¬ 
ber carpet. 

Now, if there is an animal in the catalogue of creation 
that she dreads and detests, it is a mouse ; and she has a 
vague and indefinite idea that rats and mice were made 
with especial regard to her individual torment. As she 
heard the sound of the nibble by the window, she arose 
again upon her elbow, and cried u Shoo ! Shoo /” energetic¬ 
ally, several times. The sound ceasvd. and she fondly fan¬ 
cied that her trouble was over Again she laid herself 
away as carefully as she would have lain eggs at forty-five 



52 


SPEECHIANA. 


cents a dozen, when— nibble , nibble , nibble I —she once 
more heard the odious sound by the window. “ Shoo!” 
cried the old lady again, at the same time hurling her 
shoe at the spot from whence the sound proceeded, where 
the little midnight marauder was carrying on his depreda¬ 
tions. 

A light burned upon the hearth—she couldn’t sleep with¬ 
out a light,—and she strained her eyes in vain to catch a 
glimpse of her tormenter playing about amid the shadows 
of the room. All again was silent, and the clock, giving 
an admonitory tremble, struck twelve. Midnight! and 
Mrs. Partington counted the tintinabulous knots as they ran 
off the reel of Time, with a saddened heart. 

Nibble , nibble , nibble /- again that sound. The old lady 
sighed as she hurled the other shoe at her invisible annoy¬ 
ance. It was all without avail, and “shooing” was bootless, 
for the sound came again to her wakeful ear. At this point 
her patience gave out, and, conquering her dread of the 
cold, she arose and opened the door of her room that led to 
a corridor, when, taking the light in one hand, and a shoe 
in the other, she made the circuit of the room, and explored 
every nook and cranny in which a mouse could ensconce 
himself. She looked under the bed, and under the old 
chest of drawers, and under the washstand, and “ shooed ” 
until she could “ shoo ” no more. 

The reader’s own imagination, if he has an imagination 
skilled in limning, must draw the picture of the old lady 
while upon this exploring expedition, “ accoutred as she 
was,” in search of the ridiculous mouse. We have our own 
opinion upon the subject, and must say,—with all due defer¬ 
ence to the years and virtues of Mrs. P., and with all re¬ 
gard for personal attractions very striking in one of her 
years,—we should judge that she cut a very queer figure, 
indeed. 

Satisfying herself that the mouse must have left the 
room, she closed the door, deposited the light upon the 
hearth, and again sought repose. How gratefully a warm 
bed feels, when exposure to the night air has chilled us, as 


SPEEOHIANA. 


53 


we crawl to its enfolding covert! How we nestle down, 
like an infant by its mother’s breast, and own no joy supe¬ 
rior to that we feel,—coveting no regal luxury while revel- 
liug in the elysium of feathers! So felt Mrs. P., as she 
again ensconced herself in bed. The clock in the next room 
struck one. 

She was again near the attainment of the state when 
dreams are rife, when, close by her chamber-door, outside 
she heard that hateful nibble renewed, which had marred 
her peace before. With a groan she arose, and, seizing 
her lamp, she opened the door, and had the satisfaction to 
hear the mous drop, step by step, until he reached the floor 
below. Convinced that she was now rid of him for the 
night, she returned to bed, and addressed herself to sleep. 
The room grew dim; in the weariness of her spirit, the 
chest of drawers in the corner was fast losing its identity 

and becoming something else ; in a moment more- nibble , 

nibble , nibble! again outside of the chamber-door, as the 
clock in the next room struck two. 

Anger, disappointment, desperation, fired her mind with 
a new determination. Once more she arose, but this time 
she put on a shoe !—her dexter shoe. Ominous movement! 
It is said that when a woman wets her finger, fleas had bet¬ 
ter flee. The star of that mouse’s destiny was setting, and 
was now near the horizon. She opened the door quickly, 
and, as she listened a moment, she heard him drop again 
from stair to stair, on a speedy passage down. 

The entry below w r as closely secured, and no door was 
open to admit of his escape. This she knew, and a trium¬ 
phant gleam shot athwart her features, revealed by the 
rays of the lamp. She went slowly down the stairs, until 
she arrived at the floor below, where, snugly in a corner, 
with his little beadlike black eyes looking up at her roguish¬ 
ly, was the gnawer of her carpet, and the annoyer of her 
comfort. She moved towards him, and he, not coveting 
the closer acquaintance, darted by her. She pursued him 
to the other end of the entry, and again he passed by her. 
Again and again she pursued him, with no better success. 


54 


SPEECHIANA. 


At last, when in most doubt as to which side would con- 
qner, Fortune, perched upon the banister, turned the scale 
in favor of Mrs. P. The mouse, in an attempt to run by 
her, presumed too much upon former success. He came 
too near her upraised foot. It fell upon his musipilar beau¬ 
ties, like an avalanche of snow upon a new tile, and he was 
dead forever ! Mrs. Partington gazed upon him as he lay 
before her. Though she was glad at the result, she could 
but sigh at the necessity which impelled the violence ; but 
for which the mouse might have long continued a blessing 
to the society in which he moved. 

Slowly and sadly she marched up stairs, 

W ith her shoe all sullied and gory ; 

And the watch, who saw’t through the front door squares, 
Told us this part of the story. 

That mouse did not trouble Mrs. Partington again that 
night, and the old clock m the next room struck three be¬ 
fore sleep again visited the eyelids of the relict of Corporal 
Paul. 


CATO’S SOLILOQUY. 

ADDISON. 

It must be so.—Plato, thou reasonest well!— 

Else, whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire 
This longing after immortality? 

Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, 

Of falling into naught? Why shrinks the soul 
Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? 

’Tis' the divinity that stirs within us ; 

’Tis heaven itself, that points out a hereafter, 

And intimates eternity to man. 

Eternity !—thou pleasing, dreadful thought! 

Through what variety of untried being, 





SPEECHIANA. 


55 


Through what new scenes and changes must we pass. 
The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me , 

But shadows, clouds, and darkness lest upon it. 

Here will I hold. If there’s a Power above us,— 

And that there is, all Nature cries aloud 
Through all her works,—He must delight in virtue ; 

And that which he delights in must be happy. 

But when ? or where ? This world was made for Caesar. 
I’m weary of conjectures,—this must end them. 

[Laying his hand on his sword. 

Thus am I doubly arm’d„ My death and life, 

My bane and antidote, are both before me. 

This in a moment brings me to my end; 

But this informs me I shall never die. 

The soul, secure in her existence, smiles 
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point. 

The stars shall fade away, the sun himself 
Grows dim with age, and Nature sinks in years ; 

But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, 

Unhurt amid the war of elements, 

The wreck of matter; and the crush of worlds. 


MRS. CAUDLE’S UMBRELLA LECTURE. 

JEBKOLD. 

“ That’s the third umbrella gone since Christmas. What 
were you to do? Why, let him go home in the rain, to be 
sure I’m very certain there was nothing about him that 
could spoil. Take cold ? Indeed ! He does not look like 
one of the sort to take cold. Besides, he’d have better 
taken cold than take our only umbrella. Do you hear the 
rain, Mr. Caudle? I say, do you hear the ram? And, as 
I am alive, if it isn’t St. Swithin’s day ! Do you hear it 
a-ainst the windows? Nonsense, you don’t impose upon 
me. You can’t be asleep with such a shower as that! Do 
you hear it, I say? Oh, you do hear it? Well, thats a 



56 


SPEECHIANA. 


pretty flood, I think, to last for six weeks ; and no stirring 
all the time out of the house. Pooh! don’t think me a fool, 
Mr. Caudle. Don’t insult me. He return the umbrella? 
Anybody would think you were born yesterday. As if any¬ 
body ever did return an umbrella ! There—do you hear it ? 
Worse and worse. Cats and dogs, and for six weeks—al¬ 
ways six weeks. And no umbrella ! 

“ I should like to know how the children are to go to 
school to-morrow. They sha’n’t go through such weather, 
I’m determined. No ! they shall stop at home and never 
learn anything—the blessed creatures !—sooner than go 
and get wet. And, when they grow up, I wonder who 
they’ll have to thank for knowing nothing—who, indeed, 
but their father. People who can’t feel for their own chil¬ 
dren ought never to be fathers. 

“ But I know why you lent the umbrella. Oh, yes * I 
know very well. I was going out to tea at dear mother’s 
to-morrow,—you knew that; and you did it on purpose. 
Don’t tell me, you hate to have me go there, and take every 
mean advantage to hinder me. But don’t you think it, Mr. 
Caudle. No, sir ; if it comes down in buckets-full, I’ll go 
all the more. No, and I won’t have a cab ! Where do 
you think the money’s to come from ? You’ve got nice 
high notions at that club of yours. A cab, indeed ! Cost 
me sixteenpence at least—sixteenpence ?—two-and-eight- 
pence, for there and back again ! Cabs, indeed ! I should 
like to know who’s to pay for ’em ? I can’t pay for 'em ; 
and I’m sure you can’t if you go on as you do ; throwing 
away your property, and beggaring your children—buying 
umbrellas! 

“ Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle? I say, do you hear 
it? But I don’t care—I’ll goto mother’s to-morrow, I will, 
and what’s more, I’ll walk every step of the way,—and you 
know that will give me my death. Don’t call me a foolish 
woman ; it’s you that’s a foolish man. You know I can’t 
wear clogs ; and, with no umbrella, the wet’s sure to give 
me a cold—it always does. But, what do you care for 
that ? Nothing at all. I may be laid np for what you 






SPEECHIANA 


57 


care, as I dare say I shall—and a pretty doctor’s bill 
there’ll be. I hope there will! It will teach you to lend 
your umbrella again. I shouldn’t wonder if I caught my 
death ; yes : and that’s what you lent your umbrella for. 
Of course. 

“ Nice clothes, I shall get too, trapezing through wea¬ 
ther like this. My gown and bonnet will be spoilt, quite. 
Needn’t I wear’em then? Indeed, Mr. Caudle, I shall 
wear ’em then. No, sir. I’m not going out a dowdy to 
please you or anybody else. Gracious knows, it isn’t often 
that I step over the threshold ; indeed, I might as well be 
a slave at once—better, I should say. But, when I do go 
out, Mr. Caudle, I choose to go as a lady. Ugh ! that rain 
—if it isn’t enough to break in the windows. 

“Ugh! I do look forward with dread for to-morrow. 
How I am to go to mother’s I’m sure I can’t tell. But, if 
I die I'll do it. No, sir, I won’t borrow an umbrella. 
No ; and you sha’n’t buy one. Now, Mr. Caudle, only lis¬ 
ten to this, if you bring home another umbrella, I’ll throw 
it into the street. I’ll have my own umbrella, or none at 
all. 

“Ila ! and it was only last week I had a nozzle put to 
that umbrella. I’m sure if I’d have known as much as I 
do now, it might have gone without one for me. Paying 
for new nozzles, for other people to laugh at you. Oh, it’s 
all very well for you, you can go to sleep. You’ve no 
thought of your poor patient wife and your own dear chil¬ 
dren. You think of nothing but lending umbrellas. 

“Men, indeed!—call themselves lords of creation!— 
pretty lords, when they can’t even take care of an um¬ 
brella ! 

“ I know that walk to-morrow will be the death of me. 
But that’s what you want; then you may go to your club, 
and do as you like—and then nicely my poor dear children 
will be used ; but then, sir, then you’ll be happy. Oh, 
don’t tell me ! I know you will. Else you never would 
have lent that umbrella ! 

“ You have to go on Thursday about that summons ; ana 


58 


SPEECHIANA. 


of course you can’t go. No, indeed you don’t go without 
the umbrella. You may lose the debt for what I care-—it 
won’t be so much as spoiling your clothes—better lose it: 
people deserve to lose debts who lend umbrellas. ? 

“ And I should like to know how I’m to go to mothers 
without the umbrella? Oh, don’t tell me that I said I 
would go—that’s nothing to do with it; nothing at all. 
She’ll think I’m neglecting her, and the little money we 
were to have we sha’nt have at all.—because we’ve no um¬ 
brella. 

“ The children, too ! Dear things ! They’ll be sopping 
wet; for they sha’n’t stay at home ; they sha n t lose their 
learning; it’s all their father will leave ’em, I’m sure. 
But they shall go to school. Don’t tell me I said they 
shouldn’t; you are so aggravating, Caudle ; you’d spoil the 
temper of an angel. They shall go to school: mark that. 
And if they get their deaths of cold, it s not my fault: I 
didn't lend the umbrella. Caudle, are you asleep ? (A 
loud snore is heard.) Oh, what a brute a man is! Oh, 
dear, dear, d-e-a-r !” 


THE CANE-BOTTOMED CHAIR. 

THACKERAY. 

In tattered old slippers that toast at the bars, 

And a ragged old jacket perfumed with cigars, 

Away from the world, and its toils and cares, 

I’ve a snug little kingdom up four pair of stairs. 

To mount to this realm is a toil, to be sure, 

But the fire there is bright, and the air rather pure; 

And the view I behold on a sunshiny day 
Is grand through the chimny-pots over the way. 

The snug little chamber is crammed in all nooks 
With worthless old knicknacks, and silly old books, 

And foolish old odds, and foolish old ends, 

Cracked bargains from brokers, cheap keepsakes from 
friends. 




SPEECHIANA. 


59 


Old armor, prints, pictures, pipes, china (all cracked), 

Old rickety tables, and chairs broken-backed ; 

A two-penny treasury, wondrous to see ; 

What matter ? ’tis pleasant to you, friend, and me. 

No better divan need the Sultan require, 

Than the creaking old sofa that basks by the fire; 

And ’tis wonderful, surely, what music you get 
From the rickety, ramshackle, wheezy spinet. 

That praying-rug came from a Turcoman’s camp ; 

By Tiber once twinkled that brazen old lamp ; 

A Mameluke fierce yonder dagger has drawn, 

’Tis a murderous knife to toast muffins upon. 

Long, long, thro’ the hours, and the night and the chimes, 
Here we talk of old books, and old friends, and old times, 
As we sit in a fog made of rich Latakie, 

This chamber is pleasant to you, friend, and me. 

But of all the old sweet treasures that garnish my nest, 
There’s one that I love and I cherish the best; 

For the finest of couches that’s padded with hair 
I never would change thee, my cane-bottom’d chair. 

Tis a bandy-legged, high-shouldered, worm-eaten seat, 
With a creaking old back, and twisted old feet; 

But, since the fair morning when Fanny sat there, 

I bless thee, and love thee my cane-bottom’d chair. 

If chairs have but feeling in holding sucn charms, 

A thrill must have passed thro’ your withered old arms ; 

I looked, and I longed, and I wished in despair; 

J wished myself turned to a cane-bottom’d chair. 

It was but a moment she sat in tms place, 

She'd a scarf on her neck, and a smile on her face; 

A smile on her face, and a rose in her hair, 

And she sat there and bloomed in my cane-bottom’d chair. 


60 


SPEECHIANA. 


And so I have valued my chair ever since, 

Like the shrine of a saint, or the throne of a prince; 
Saint Fanny, my patroness, sweet I declare, 

The queen of my heart and my cane-bottomed chair. 

When the candles burn low, and the company is gone, 
In the silence of night as I sit here alone— 

I sit here alone, but we yet are a pair; 

My Fanny I see in my cane-bottomed chair. 

She comes from the past and re-visits my room, 

She looks as she then did, all beauty and bloom; 

So smiling and tender, so fresh and so fair, 

And yonder she sits in my cane-bottomed chair. 


THE FRENCHMAN AND THE RATS. 

ANONYMOUS 

A Frenchman once, who was a merry wight, 

Passing to town from Dover in the night. 

Near the road'side an ale-house chanced to spy; 

And being rather tired as well as dry, 

Resolved to enter: but first he took a peep, 

In hopes a supper he might get, and cheap. 

He enters : u Hallo ! Garqon, if you please, 

Bring me a leetle bread and cheese. 

And hallo Garqon, a pint of portar, too !” he said, 

“ Vich I shall take, and den myself to bed.” 

His supper done, some scraps of cheese were left, 
Which our poor Frenchman, thinking it no theft, 

Into his pocket put; then slowly crept 
To wished-for bed ; but not a wink he slept— 

For, on the floor some sacks of flour were laid. 

To which the rats a nightly visit paid. 

Our hero, now undressed, popped out the light, 

Pnt on his cap, and bade the world good-night; 

But first his breeches, which contained the fare, 



SPEECHIANA. 


61 


Under liis pillow he had placed with care. 

Sans ceremonie soon the rats all ran, 

And on the flour-sacks greedily began ; 

At which they gorged themselves; then smelling round, 
Under the pillow soon the cheese they found ; 

And while at this they regaling sat, 

Their happy jaws disturbed the Frenchman’s nap ; 

Who, half awake, cries out‘ “ Hallo ! hallo ! 

Vat is dat nibbel at my pillow so ? 

Ah ! , tis one big huge rat! 

Vat de diable is it, he nibbel, nibbel at ?” 

In vain our little hero sought repose; 

Sometimes the vermin galloped o’er his nose ; 

And such the pranks they kept up all the night 
That he, on end antipodes upright, 

Bawling aloud, called stoutly for a light. 

“ Hallo ! Mai son ! Garcon, I say! 

Bring me the bill for vat I have to pay!” 

The bill was brought, and to his great surprise, 

Ten shillings was the charge, he scarce believes his eyes ; 
With eager haste he runs it o’er, 

And every time he viewed it thought it more. 

“ Vy zounds, and zounds!” he cries, “ I sail no pay ; 

Vat, charge ten shelangs for vat I have mange ? 

A leetle sup of portar, dis vile bed 
Vare all de rats do run about my head ?” 

“’Plague on those rats!” the landlord muttered out: 

«I wish, upon my word, that l could make ’em scout; 
I’ll pay him well that can.” “ Vat’s dat you say !” 

“ I’ll pay him well that can.” “Attend to me, I pray ; 
Vill you dis charge forego, vat I am at, 

If from your house I drive away de rat ?” 

“ With all my heart,” the jolly host replies, 

“ Ecoutez done, amithe Frenchman cries. 

“ First, den—Regardez, if you please, 

Bring to this spot a leetal bread and cheese 
Eh bien! a pot of portar, too ; 

And den invite de rats to sup vid you. 


62 


SPEECHIANA. 


And after dat—no mattei dey be villing— 

For vat dey eat, you charge dem just ten shelang. 
And I am sure, ven dey behold de score, 

Dey’11 quit your house, and never come no more.” 


VAT YOU PLEASE. 

PL AN CHE. 

Some years ago, when civil faction 
Raged like a fury through the fields of Gaul, 

And children in the general distraction, 

Were taught to curse as soon as they could squall; 

When common-sense in common folks was dead, 

And murder showed a love of nationality, 

And France, determined not to have a head, 

Decapitated all the higher class, 

To put folks more on an equality ; 

V lien coronets were not worth half-a-crown, 

And liberty, in bonnet-rouge might pass 
For Mother Red-cap up at Camden town; 

Full many a Frenchman then took wing. 

Bidding soupe-maigre an abrupt farewell. 

And hither came pell mell, 

Sans cash, scms clothes, and almost sans everything! 

Two Messieurs who about this time came over,. 
Half-starved, but toujours gai 
(No weasels ere were thinner,) 

Trudged up to town from Dover; 

Their slender store exhausted in the way, 

Extremely puzzled how to get a dinner. 

From morn till noon, from noon till dewy eve. 

Our Frenchmen wander’d on their expedition: 

Great was their need and sorely did they grieve, 
Stomach and pocket in the same condition ! 

At length by mutual consent they parted, 

And different ways on the same errand started. 


SPEECHIANA. 


63 


This happened on a day most dear 
To epicures, when general use 
Sanctions the roasting of the sav’ry goose. 

To wards night, one Frenchman, at a tavern near, 
Stopp’d, and beheld the glorious cheer ; 

While greedily he snuff’d the luscious gale in, 

That from the kitchen window was exhaling, 

And snuff’d and long’d, and long’d and snuff’d again. 
Necessity’s the mother ol invention, 

(A proverb I’ve heard many mention ;; 

So now one moment saw his plan completed, 

And our sly Frenchman at a table seated. 

The ready waiter at his elbow stands— 

“ Sir, will you favor me with your commands ? 

We’ve roast and boil’d, sir ; choose you those or these?” 
“ Sare ! you are very good, sir ! Vat you please 

Quick at the word, 

U pon the table smokes the wished-for bird. 

No time in talking did ho waste, 

But pounced pell-mell upon it; 

Drum-stick and merry-thought he pick’d in haste, 
Exulting in the merry thought that won it. 

Pie follows goose, and after pie comes cheese— 

“ Stilton or Cheshire, sir?”—“ Ah ! vat you please.'* 

And now our Frenchman, having ta’en his fill, 

Prepares to go, when “ Sir, your little bill.” 

“ Ah, vat, you’re Bill! Veil, Mr. Bill, good day! 

Bon jour , good Villiam.” u No, sir, stay ; 

My name is Tom, sir—you’ve this bill to pay.” 

“ Pay, pay, mafoi ! 

I call for nothing, sar e—pardonnez moi! 

You bring me what you call your goose, your cneese, 
You ask-a-me to eat; I tell you, Vat you please ! 

Down came the master ; each explain d the case, 

The one with cursing, t’other with grimace; 

But Boniface, who dearly loved a jest. 


64 


SPEECHIANA. 


(Although sometimes he dearly paid for it,) 

And finding nothing could be done (you know, 

That when a man has got no money, 

To make him pay some would be rather funny,) 

Of a bad bargain made the best, 

Acknowledged much was to be said for it; 

Took pity on the Frenchman’s meager face, 

And Briton-like, forgave a fallen foe, 

Laugh’d heartily, and let him go. 

Our Frenchman’s hunger, thus subdued, 

Away he trotted in a merry mood; 

When, turning round the corner of a street, 

Who, but his countryman, he chanced to meet! 

To him with many a shrug and many a grin, 

He told him how he’d taken Jean Bull in! 

Fired with the tale, the other licks his chops, 

Makes his congee, and seeks the shop of shops. 

Entering, he seats himself, just at his ease; 

“ What will you take, sir?”—“ Vat you please .” 

The waiter turned as pale as Paris plaster. 

And, up-stairs running, thus address’d the master: 

“ These vile mounseers come over sure in pairs ; 

Sir, there’s another ‘ vat you please /’ down-stairs.” 

This made the landlord rather crusty, 

Too much of one thing—the proverb’s somewhat musty. 
Once to be done , his anger didn’t touch, 

But when a second time they tried the treason, 

It made him crusty , sir, and with good reason— 

You would be crusty were you done so much. 

There is a kind of instrument 

Which greatly helps a serious augument, 

And which, when properly applied, occasions 
Some most unpleasant tickling sensations ! 

’Twould make more clumsy folks than Frenchmen skip, 
’Twill strike you presently—a stout horsewhip. 

This instrument our Maitre VHote 


SPEECHIANA. 


65 


Most carefully concealed beneath his coat; 

And seeking instantly the Frenchman’s station, 
Addressed him with the usual salutation. 

Our Frenchman, bowing to his threadbare knees, 
Determined whilst the iron’s hot to strike it, 

Pat with his lesson answers—“ Vat you please!’* 

But scarcely had he let the sentence slip, 

Than round his shoulders twines the pliant whip ! 
“Sare, sare ! ah, misericorde , parbleu l 
Oh dear, monsieur, vat make you use me so ? 

Vat you call dis?” “Oh, don’t you know?” 

That’s what I please,” says Bonny, “ how d’ye like it? 
Your friend, though I paid dearly for his funning, 
Deserved the go^se he gained, sir, for his cunning; 
But you, monsieur, or else my time I’m wasting, 

Are goose enough, and only wanted basting.” 


MISS MALONEY ON THE CHINESE QUESTION. 

scribnee’s magazine. 

Och! don’t be talkin’. Is it howld on, ye say? An* 
didn’t I howld on till the heart of me was clane broke en¬ 
tirely, and me wastin’ that thin you could clutch me wid 
yer two hands. To think o’ me toilin’ like a nager for the 
six year I’ve been in Ameriky—bad luck to the day I iver 
left the owld counthry, to be bate by the likes o’ thim! 
(faix an’ I’ll sit down when I’m ready, so I will, Ann 
Ryan, an’ ye’d better be listnin’ than drawin’ your remarks) 
an’ it’s mysel’ with five good charakters from respectable 
places, would be herdin’ wid the haythens? The saints for¬ 
give me but I’d be buried alive soon’n put up wid it a day 
longer. Sure an’ I was a granehorn not to be lavin’ at 
’onct when the missus kim into me kitchen wid her perla- 
ver about the new waiter-man which was brought out from 
Californy. “He’ll be here the night,” says she, “and 



66 


SPEECHIANA. 


Kitty, it’s meself looks to you to be kind and patient wid 
him, for he’s a furriner,” says she, a kind o’ looking off. 
“ Sure an’ it’s little I’ll hinder nor interfare wid him nor 
any other, mum,” says I, a kind o’ stiff, for I minded me 
how these French waiters, wid their paper collars and brass 
rings on their fingers, isn’t company for no gurril brought 
up dacint and honest. Och ! sorra a bit I knew what was 
cornin’ till the missus walked into me kitchen smilin’, and 
says kind o’ sheared, “ Here’s Fing Wing, Kitty, an’ you’ll 
have too much sinse to mind his bein’ a little strange.” 
Wid that she shoots the doore ; and I, misthrusting if I was 
tidied up sufficient for me fine buy wid his paper collar, 
looks up and—Holy fathers ! may I niver brathe another 
breath, but there stud a rale haythen Chineser a-grinnin’ 
like he’d just come off a tay-box. If you’ll belave me, the 
crayture was that yeller it ’ud sicken you to see him ; and 
sorra stitch was on him but a black night-gown over his 
trowsers and the front of his head shaved claner nor a cop¬ 
per biler, and a black tail a-hangin’ down from behind, wid 
his two feet stook into the heathenesest shoes you ever set 
eyes on. Och! but I was up-stairs afore you could turn 
about, a givin’ the missus warnin’; an’ only stopt wid her 
by her raisin’ me wages two dollars, and playdin’ wid me 
how it was a Christian’s duty to bear wid haythins and 
taitch ’em all in our power—the saints save us! Well, the 
ways and trials I had wid that Chineser, Ann Ryan, I 
couldn’t be tellin’. Not a blissed thing cud I do but he’d 
be lookin’ on wid his eyes cocked up’ard like two poomp- 
handles, an’ he widdout a speck or a smitch o’ whiskers on 
him, and his finger-nails full a yard long. But it’s dying 
you’d be to see the missus a lamin’ him, and he grinnin’ 
an’ waggin' his pig-tail (which was pieced out long wid 
some black stoof, the haythen chate !) and gettin’ into her 
ways wonderful quick, I don’t deny, imitatin’ that sharp, 
you’d be shurprised, and ketchin’ aul copyin’ things the 
best, of us will do a-hurried wid work, yet don’t want 
cornin’ to the knowledge of the family—bad luck to him ! 

Is it ate wid him? Arrah, an’ would I be sittin’ wid a 


SPEECHIANA. 


67 


haythen and he a-atin’ wid drumsticks—yes, an’ atin’ dogs 
and cats unknownst to me, I warrant you, which is the cus¬ 
tom of them Chiuesers, till the thought made me that sick 
I could die. An didn’t the crayter proffer to help me a 
wake ago come Toosday, an’ me a foldin’ down me clane 
clothes for the ironin’, an’ fill his haythen mouth wid water, 
an’ afore I could hinder squrrit it through his teeth stret 
over the best linen table-cloth, and fold it up tight as inner- 
cent now as a baby, the dirty baste ! But the worrest of all 
was the copyin’ he’d be doin’ till ye’d be dishtracted. It’s 
yerself knows the tinder feet that’s on me since ever I’ve 
bin in this country. Well, owin’ to that, I fell into the way 
o’ slippin’ me shoes off when I’d be settin’ down to pale the 
praties or the likes o’ that, and, do ye mind, that haythin 
would do the same thing after me whiniver the missus set 
him parin’ apples or tomaterses. The saints in heaven 
couldn’t have made him belave he could kape the shoes on 
him when he’d be payling anything. 

Did I lave fur that? Faix an’ didn’t he get me into 
trouble wid my missus, the haythin? You’re aware yer¬ 
self how the boondles cornin’ in from the grocery often con¬ 
tains more’n ’ll go into anything dacently. So, foi that 
matter, I’d now and then take out a sup o’ sugar, or flour, 
or tay, an’ wrap it in paper and put it in me bit of a box 
tucked under the ironin’ blankit the how it cuddent be bod- 
derin’ any one. Well, what should it be, but this blessed 
Sathurday morn the missus was a spakin’ pleasant and re- 
spec’ful wid me in me kitchen when the grocer boy comes 
in an’ stands fornenst her wid his boondles an’ she motions 
like to Fing Wing (which I never would call him by that 
name nor any other but just haythin), she motions to him, 
she does, for to take the boondles an’ empty out the sugar 
an’ what not where they belongs. If you’ll belave me, Ann 
Ryan, what did that blatherin’ Chineser do but take out a 
sup o’ sugar, an’ a handful o’ tay, an’ a bit o’ chaze right 
afore the missus, wrap them into bits o’ paper, an’ I spache- 
less wid shuprise, an’ he the next minute up wid the ironin’ 
blankit and pullin’ out me box wid a show o’ bein’ sly to 


68 


SPEECHIANA. 


put them in. Och, the Lord forgive me, but I clutched it, 
and the missus sayin’, u O Kitty!” in a way that ’ud curdle 
your blood. u He’s a haythin nager,” says 1. “ I’ve found 
you out,” says she. “I’ll arrist him,” says I. “It’s you 
ought to be arristed,” says she. You won’t,” says I. “I 
will,” says she ; and so it went till she give me such sass as 
I cuddent take from no lady, an’ I give her warnin’ an’ left 
that instant, an’ she a-pointin’ to the doore. 


METAMORA TO THE COUNCIL. 

You sent for me, and I’ve come ; if you have nothing to 
to say, I go back again. How is it, brothers ?—the doubt 
seems on all your faces, and your young warriors grasp 
their fire-weapons, as if they waited the onset of the foe. 
You were like a small thing upon the great waters ; you 
had no earth to rest upon; you left the smoke of your 
father’s wigwam far in the distance, when the lord of the 
soil took you as little children to his home ; our hearths 
w r ere warm, and the Indian was the white man’s friend. 
Your great Book tells you to give good gifts ; the Indian 
needs no book,—the Great Spirit has written with his fin¬ 
ger on his heart. Wisconego here?—let me see his eye! 
Art thou not he whom I snatched from the war-club of the 
Mohegan, when the lips of the foe thirsted for thy blood, 
and their warriors had sung thy death-song? Say unto 
these people that they have bought thy tongue, and that thy 
coward heart has uttered a lie. Slave of the whites, go, 
(stabs him) follow Sassawan ! White man, beware ! the 
wrath of the wronged Indian shall fall on you like a mighty 
cataract that dashes the uprooted oak down its mighty 
chasm ; the dread war-cry shall start you from dreams at 
night, and the red hatchet gleam in the blaze of your burn¬ 
ing dwellings ! Tremble, from the east to the west, from 
the north to the south, till the lands you have stolen groan 
beneath your feet! (Throws hatchet on stage.) Thus do I 
smite your nation, and defy your power ! 



SPEECHIANA. 


69 


« BINGEN ” ON THE RHINE. 

MBS. NORTON. 

A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers ; 

There was lack of woman’s nursing, there was dearth of 
woman’s tears, 

But a comrade knelt beside him, while his life-blood ebbed 
away, 

And bent with pitying glances to hear what he might say. 

The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade’s hand, 

And he said, “ I never more shall see my own, my native 
land ; 

Take a message, and a token, to some distant friends of 
mine, 

For I was born at Bingen, at Bingen on the Rhine. 

“ Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and 
crowd around 

To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard 
ground, 

That we fought the battle bravely, and, when the day was 
done, 

Full many a corse lay ghastly pale beneath the setting sun. 

And midst the dead and dying were some grown old in 
wars— 

The death-wound on their gallant breasts, the last of many 
scars. 

But some were young, and suddenly beheld life’s morn de¬ 
cline ; 

And one had come from Bingen—fair Bingen on the 
Rhine. 

“ Tell my mother that her other sons shall comfort her old 
age, 

And I was aye a truant bird that thought his home a cage: 

For my father was a soldier, and, even as a child, 

My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce 
and wild. 

And when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard, 


70 


SPEECHIANA. 


I let them take whate’er they would, but kept my father’s 
sword; 

Aud with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used 
to shine 

On the cottage wall at Bingen—calm Bingen on the Rhine. 

“ Tell my sister not to weep for me and sob with drooping 
head, 

When the troops are marching home again with glad and 
gallant tread, 

But look upon them proudly, with calm and steadfast eye, 

For her brother was a soldier too, and not afraid to die. 

And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name 

To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame ; 

And to hang the old sword in its place (my father’s sword 
and mine), 

For the honor of old Bingen—dear Bingen on the Rhine. 

“ There’s another—not a sister ; in the happy days gone 

b y. 

You’d have known her by the merrriment that sparkled in 
eye; 

Too innocent for coquetry—too fond for idle scorning— 

O, friend, I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heavi¬ 
est mourning! 

Tell her the last night of my life (for ere this moon be risen, 

My body will be out of pain, my soul be out of prison), 

I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight 
shine 

On the vine-clad hills of Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine. 

u I saw the blue Rhine sweep along—I heard, or seemed 
to hear, 

The German songs we used to sing in chorus sweet and 
clear; 

And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill, 

That echoing chorus sounded through the evening calm and 
still ; 


SPEECHIANA. 


71 


And her glad blue eyes were on me as we passed with 
friendly talk, 

Down many a path beloved of yore, and well remembered 
walk. 

And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine,— 

But we’ll meet no more at Bingen, loved Bingen on the 
Rhine. 

His voice grew faint and hoarser, his grasp was childish 
weak— 

His eyes put on a dying look, he sighed and ceased to speak : 

His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had 
fled, — 

The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land was dead! 

And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked 
down 

On the red sand of the battle-field with bloody corses 
strewn; 

Yes, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to 
shine 

As it shone on distant Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine. 


THE BASHFUL MAN. 

MATHEWS. 

Among the various good and bad qualities incident to 
our nature, I am, unfortunately, that being overstocked 
with the one called bashfulness ; for you must know I in¬ 
herit such an extreme susceptibility of shame, that, on the 
smallest subject of confusion, my blood rushes to my cheeks, 
and I appear a perfect full-blown rose; in short, I am com¬ 
monly known by the appellation of ‘‘The Bashful Man.” 
The consciousness of this unhappy failing made me for¬ 
merly avoid' that social company I should otherwise have 
been ambitious to appear in ; till at length becoming pos¬ 
sessed of an ample fortune by the death of an old rich uncle, 
and vainly supposing that “ money makes the man,” I was 



72 


SPE EOHIAN A • 


now determined to shake off my natural timidity, and join 
the gay throng. With this view I accepted of an invita¬ 
tion to dine with one whose open, easy manner left me no 
room to doubt of a cordial welcome. 

Sir Thomas Friendly was an intimate acquaintance of 
my late uncle’s, with two sons and five daughters, all grown 
up, and living with their mother, and a maiden sister of 
Sir Thomas’. Conscious of my unpob'slied gait, I for some 
time took private lessons of a professor, who teaches 
“ grown gentlemen to dance/’ Having, by his means ac¬ 
quired the art of walking without tottering, and learned to 
make a bow, I boldly ventured to obey the baronet’s invita¬ 
tion to a family dinner, not doubting but my new acquire¬ 
ments would enable me to see ladies with tolerable intre¬ 
pidity ; but, alas! how vain are all the hopes of theory, 
when unsupported by habitual practice ! As I approached 
the house, a dinner-bell alarmed my fears lest I had spoiled 
the dinner by want of punctuality. Impressed with the 
idea, I blushed the deepest crimson, as my name was re¬ 
peatedly announced by the several livery servants, who 
ushered me into the library, hardly knowing what or whom 
I saw. 

At my first entrance, I summoned all my fortitude, and 
made my new-learned bow to Lady Friendly ; but, unfortu¬ 
nately, in bringing my left foot to the third position, I trod 
upon poor Sir Thomas, who had followed close to my heels, 
to be the nomenclator of the family. The confusion this 
occasioned to me is hardly to be conceived, since none but 
bashful men can judge of my distress ; and of that descrip¬ 
tion the number I believe is very small. The baronet’s po¬ 
liteness by degrees dissipated my concern, and I was aston¬ 
ished to see how far good-breeding could enable him to sup¬ 
port his feelings, and to appear with perfect ease, after so 
painful an accident. 

The cheerfulness of her ladyship, and the familiar chat 
of the young ladies, insensibly led me to throw off my re¬ 
serve and sheepishness, till at length I ventured to join in 
conversation, and even to start fresh subjects. 


SPEECHIANA. 


73 


The library being richly furnished with books in elegant 
bindings, and observing an edition of Xenophon in sixteen 
volumes, which (as I had never before heard of) greatly 
excited my curiosity, I rose up to examine what it could 
be. Sir Thomas saw what I was about, and (as I suppose), 
willing to save me the trouble, rose to take down the book, 
which made me more anxious to prevent him ; and, hastily 
laying my hand on the first volume, I pulled it forcibly, 
but, lo ! instead of books, a board, which, by leather and 
gilding, had been made to look like sixteen volumes, came 
rumbling down, and unluckily pitched upon a wedgwood 
inkstand on the table under it. In vain did Sir Thomas 
assure me there was no harm ; I saw the ink streaming 
from an inlaid table on the Turkey carpet; and, scarce 
knowing what I did, I attempted to stop its progress with 
my cambric handkerchief. In the height of this confusion, 
we were informed that dinner was served up, and I with 
joy perceived that the hell, which at first had so alarmed 
my fears, was only the half-hour dinner-bell. 

In walking through the hall and suit of apartments to the 
dining-room, I had time to collect my scattered senses, and 
was desired to take my seat betwixt L^dy Friendly and her 
eldest daughter at the table. Since the fall of the wooden 
Xenophon, my face had been continually burning like a 
firebrand ; and I was just beginning to recover myself, and 
to feel comfortably cool, when an un-looked-for accident re¬ 
kindled all mv heat and blushes. Having set my plate of 
soup too near" the edge of the table, in bowing to Miss 
Dinah, who politely complimented the pattern of my waist¬ 
coat, I tumbled the whole scalding contents into my lap. 
In spite of an immediate supply of napkins to wipe the sur¬ 
face of my clothes, my black silk breeches were not stout 
enough to save me from the painful effects of this sudden 
fomentation, and for some minutes my legs and t lg s 
seemed stewing in a boiling caldron ; but, recollecting how 
Sis Thomas had disguised his torture when I trod upon his 
toe, I firmly bore my pain in silence, and sat with my lower 


74 


SPEECHIANA. 


extremities parboiled, amidst the stifled giggling of the la¬ 
dies and servants. 

I will not relate the several blunders which I made du¬ 
ring the first course, or the distresses occasioned by my be¬ 
ing desired to carve a fowl, or help to various dishes that 
stood near me, spilling a sauceboat, and knocking down a 
salt-cellar; rather let us hasten to the second course, 
“ where fresh disasters overwhelmed me quite.” 

I had a piece of rich, sweet pudding on my fork, when 
Miss Louisa Friendly begged to trouble me for a pigeon 
that stood near me. In my haste, scarcely knowing what 
1 did, I whipped the pudding into my mouth, hot as a burn¬ 
ing coal. It was impossible to conceal my agony—my 
eyes were starting from their sockets; at last, in spite of 
shame and resolution, I was obliged to drop the cause of 
torment on my plate. Sir Thomas and the ladies all com¬ 
passionated my misfortune, and each advised a different 
application; one recommended oil, another water, but all 
agreed that wine was the best to draw out fire; and a glass 
was brought me from the sideboard, which I snatched up 
with eagerness, but, O! how shall I tell the sequel ? 
Whether the butler by accident mistook, or purposely de¬ 
signed to drive me mad, he gave me the strongest brandy, 
with which I filled my mou h, already flayed and blistered. 

Totally unused to ardent spirits, with my tongue, throat, 
’and palate as raw as beef, what could I do ? I could not 
swallow, and clapping my hands upon my mouth, the cursed 
liquor squirted through my nose and fingers like a fountain, 
over all the dishes, and I was crushed by bursts of laughter 
from all quarters. In vain did Sir Thomas reprimand the 
servants, and Lady Friendly chide her daughters, for the 
measure of my shame—and their diversion—was not yet 
complete. 

To relieve me from the intolerable state of perspiration 
which this accident had caused, without considering what I 
did, I wiped my face with ♦ hat ill-fated pocket handkerchief, 
which was still wet from the consequences of the fall of 
Xenophen, and covered my face with streaks of ink in 


SPEECHIANA. 


75 


every direction. The baronet himself could not support 
this shock, but joined his lady in the general laugh, while I 
sprung from the table in despair, and rushed out of the 
house, and ran home in an agony of confusion and disgrace, 
which the most poignant sense of guilt could have excited. 
Thus, without having deviated from the paths of moral rec¬ 
titude, I am suffering torments like a “ goblin damned.” 
The lower half of me has been almost boiled, my tongue 
and mouth grilled, and I bear the mark of Cain upon my 
forehead ; yet these are but trifling considerations to the 
everlasting shame which I must feel whenever this adventure 
shall be mentioned. Perhaps, by your assistance, when my 
neighbors know how much I feel on the occasion, they will 
spare a bashful man, and—as I am just informed my poul¬ 
tice is ready—I trust you will excuse the haste in which I 
retire. 


BURIAL OF LITTLE NELL. 

DICKENS. 

When morning came, and they could speak more calmly 
on the subject of their grief, they heard how her life had 
closed. 

She had been dead two days. They were all about her 
at the time, knowing that the end was drawing on. She 
died soon after daybreak. They had read and talked to 
her in the earlier portion of the night, but as the hours 
crept on, she sunk to sleep. They could tell by what she 
faintly uttered in her dreams, that they were of her jour- 
neyings with the old man ; they were of no painful scenes, 
but of those who had helped and used them kindly, for she 
often said “ God bless you! ’ w r ith great fervor. Waking, 
she never wandered in her mind but once, and that was at 
beautiful music which she said was in the air. God knows. 
It may have been. 

Openihg her eyes at last, from a very quiet sleep, she 
begged that they would kiss her once again. That done, 



76 


SPEECHIANA. 


she turned to the old man with a lovely smile upon her 
face—such, they said, as they had never seen, and never 
could forget—and clung with both her arms about his neck. 
They did not know that she was dead at first. 

She had spoken very often of the two sisters, who, she 
said, w'ere like dear friends to her. She wished they could 
be told how much she thought about them, and how she 
had watched them as they walked together by the river 
side at night. She would like to see poor Kit, she had 
often said of late. She wished there was somebody to take 
her love to Kit. And even then, she never thought or 
spoke about him but with something of her old, clear, merry 
laugh. 

For the rest, she had never murmured or complained; 
but, with a quiet mind, and manner quite unaltered—save 
that she every day became more earnest and more grateful 
to them—faded like the light upon the summer’s evening. 

The child who had been her little friend came there al¬ 
most as soon as it was day, with an offering of dried 
flowers, which he begged them to lay upon her breast. It 
was he who had come to the window over night and spoken 
to the sexton, and they saw in the snow traces of small feet, 
where he had been lingering near the room in which she 
lay before he went to bed. He had a fancy, it seemed, 
that they had left her there alone ; and could not bear the 
thought. 

He told them of his dream again, and that it was of her 
being restored to them just as she used to be. He begged 
hard to see her, saying that he would be very quiet, and 
that they need not fear his being alarmed, for he had sat 
alone by his younger brother all day long, when he was 
dead, and had felt glad to be so near him. They let him 
have his wish; and indeed he kept his word, and was in 
his childish way a lesson to them all. 

Up to that time the old man had not spoken once—ex¬ 
cept to her—or stirred from the bedside. But when he 
saw her little favorite, he was moved as they had not seen 
him yet, and made as though he would have him come 


SPEECHIANA. 


77 


nearer. Then pointing to the bed he burst into tears for 
the first time, and they who stood by, knowing that the 
sight of this child had done him good, left them alone to¬ 
gether. 

Soothing him with his artless talk of her, the child per- 
sualed him to take some rest, to walk abroad, to do almost 
as he desired him. And when the day came on, which 
must remove her in her earthly shape from earthly eyes 
forever, he led him away, that he might not know when 
she w T as taken from him. 

They were to gather fresh leaves and berries for her bed. 
It was Sunday—a bright clear, wintry afternoon—and as 
they traversed the village street, those who were walking 
in their path drew back to make way for them, and gave 
them a softened greeting. Some shook the old man kindly 
by the hand, some stood uncovered while he tottered by, 
and many cried “ God help him!” as he passed along. 

“ Neighbor!” said the old man, stopping at the cottage 
where his young guide’s mother dwelt, “ how is it that the 
folks are nearly all in black to-day ? I have seen a mourn¬ 
ing ribbon or a piece of crape on almost every one.” 

She could not tell, the woman said. 

“ Why, you yourself—you wear the color too !” he cried. 
“ Windows are closed that never used to be by day. What 
does this mean ?” 

Again the woman said she could not tell. 

“We must go back,” said the old man hurriedly. “We 
must see what this is.” 

“ No, no,” cried the child, detaining him. “ Remember 
what you promised. Our way is to the old green lane, 
where she and I so often were, and where you found us 
more than once making those garlands for her garden. Do 
not turn back!” 

“Where is she now?” said the old man. “Tell me 
that.” 

“ Do you not know?” returned the child. “ Did we not 
leave her but just now ?” 

“ True. True. It was her we left—was it!” 


78 


SPEEOHIANA. 


He pressed his hand upon his brow, looked vacantly 
round, and as if impelled by a sudden thought, crossed the 
road, and entered the sexton’s house. He aud his deaf as¬ 
sistant were sitting before the fire. Both rose up, on seeing 
who it was. 

The child made a hasty sign to them with his hand. It 
was the action of an instant, but that, and the old man’s 
look, were quite enough. 

Do you—do you bury any one to-day ?” he said eagerly. 

“ N°> no! Who should we bury, sir?” returned the sex¬ 
ton. 

“ Ay, who indeed! I say with you, who indeed?” 

It is a holiday with us, good sir,” returned the sexton 
mildly. “We have no work to do to-day.” 

“ . Wh y then > go where you will,” said the old man, 
turning to the child. “ You’re sure of what you tell me? 
You would not deceive me? I am changed even in the lit¬ 
tle time since last you saw me.” 

“ Go % wa ys with him, sir,” said the sexton, “ and 
Heaven be with ye both !” 

“ I am quite ready, said the old man, meekly. <c Come, 
boy, come”—and so submitted to be led away. 

. And n °w the bell—the bell she had so often heard by 
night and day, and listened to with solemn pleasure almost 
as a living voice—rung its remorseless toll for her, so 
young, so beautiful, so good. Decrepit age, and vigorous 
life, and blooming youth, and helpless infancy, poured forth 
—on crutches, in the pride of strength and health, in the 
full blush of promise, in the mere d iwn of life—to gather 
round her tomb. Old men were there, whose eyes were 
dim and senses failing—grandmothers, who mi<rht have 
died ten years ago, and still been old—the deaf, the blind 
the lame, the palsied, the living dead in many shapes and 
forms, to see the closing of that early grave. What was the 
death it would shut in, to that which still could crawl and 
creep above it! 

Along the crowded path they bore her now ; pure as the 
newly-fallen snow that covered it; whose day on earth had 


SPEECHIANA. 


79 


been as fleeting Under that porch, where she had sat 
when Heaven in its mercy brought her to that peaceful 
spot, she passed again, and the old church received her in 
its quiet shade. 

They carried her to one old nook, where she had many and 
many a time sat musing, and laid their burden softly on the 
pavement.. The light streamed on it through the colored win¬ 
dow——a window, where the boughs of trees are ever rust¬ 
ling in the summer, and where the birds sang sweetly all 
day long. With every breath of air that stirred among 
those branches in the sunshine, some trembling, changing 
light, would fall upon her grave. 

Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Many a 
young hand dropped in its little wreath, many a stifled sob 
was heard. Some—and they were not a few—knelt down. 
All were sincere and truthful in their sorrow. 

The service done, the mourners stood apart, and the vil¬ 
lagers closed round to look into the grave before the pave¬ 
ment stone should be replaced. One called to mind how 
he had seen her sitting on that very spot, and how her book 
had fallen on her lap, and she was gazing with a pensive 
face upon the sky. Another told, how he had wondered 
much that one so delicate as she, should be so bold; how 
she had never feared to enter the church alone at night, but 
had loved to linger there when all was quiet; and even to 
climb the tower stair, with no more light than that of the 
moon rays stealing through the loopholes in the thick old 
wall. A whisper went about among the oldest there, that 
she had seen and talked with angels : and when they called 
to mind how she had looked, and spoken, and her early 
dea’.h, some thought it might be so indeed. Thus, coming 
to the grave in little knots, and glancing down, and giving 
place to others, and falling off in whispering groups of three 
or four, the church was cleared in time of all but the sexton 
and the mourning friends. 

They saw the vault covered and the stone fixed down. 
Then, when the dusk of evening had come on, and not a 
sound disturbed the sacred stillness of the place—when the 


80 


SPEECHIANA. 


bright moon poured iu her light on tomb and monument, 
on pillar, wall, and arch, and most of all (it seemed to them) 
upon her quiet grave —in that calm time, when all outward 
things and inward thoughts teem with assurance of immor- 
tality, and wordly hopes and fears are humbled in the dust 
before them—then, with tranquil and submissive hearts they 
turned away, and left the child with God. 

Oh ! it is hard to take to heart the lesson that such deaths 
will teach, but let no man reject it, for it is one that all 
must learn, and is a mighty universal Truth. When 
Death strikes down the innocent and young, for every 
fragile form from which he lets the panting spirit free, a 
hundred virtues rise, in shapes of mercy, charity, and love, 
to walk the world and bless it with their light. Of every 
tear that sorrowing mortals shed on such green graves, 
some good is born, some gentler nature comes. In the 
Destroyer’s steps there spring up bright creations that defy 
his power, and his dark path becomes a way of light to 
Heaven. 


THE DUTCHMAN’S SHMALL POX. 

ANONYMOUS, 

Some years ago, a droll sort of a Dutchman was the 
driver of a stage in New Jersey, and he passed daily 
through the small hamlet of Jericho. One morning, just 
as the vehicle was starting from Squash Point, a person 
came up and requested the driver to take in a small box, 
and “ leave it at Mrs. Scudder’s, third house on the left af¬ 
ter you get into Jericho.” 

“ Yaas, oh yaas, Mr. Ellis, I knows der haus,” said the 
driver. u I pleeve der voman dakes in vashin’, vor I always 
sees her mit her clothes hung out.” 

“ You’re right, that’s the place,” said Ellis (for that was 
the man’s name), “ she washes for one of the steamboats.” 

The box was thereupon duly deposited in the front boot, 
the driver took his ’levenpenny bit for carrying it, and the 




SPEECHIANA. 


81 


stage started on its winding way. In an hour or two, the 
four or five houses comprising the village of Jericho hove 
in sight. In front of one of them, near the door, a tall 
muscular woman was engaged at a wash-tub, while lines of 
white linen, fluttering in the wind, ornamented the adjoin¬ 
ing lawn. The stage stopped at the gate, when the follow¬ 
ing ludicrous dialogue, and attendant circumstances took 
place : 

Di 'iver —Is dis Miss Scutter’s haus? 

Woman (looking up without stopping her work)—Yes, 
I’m Mrs. Scudder. 

Driver —I’fe got der shmall pox in der stage ; vill you 
come out and dake it ? 

Woman (suddenly throwing down the garment she was 
washing)- Got the small pox ! mercy on me ! why do you 
stop here, you wicked man ? you’d better be off, quick as 
you can. (Runs into the house.) 

Driver (mutters to himself)—I vonder vat’s der mat¬ 
ter mit der fool ? I’fe a goot mind ter drow it over der 
fence. 

Upon second thought, he takes the box, gets off the stage, 
and carries it into the house. But in an instant he reap¬ 
pears, followed by a broom, with an enraged woman at the 
end of it, who is shouting in a loud voice— 

“ You git out of this ! clear yourself quicker!—you’ve 
no business to come here exposing decent people to the 
small pox ; what do you mean by it ?” 

“ I dells you it’s der shmall pox /” exclaimed the Dutch¬ 
man, emphasizing the word box as plainly as he could. 
“ Ton’t youvertsch?—der smallpox dat Mishter Ellis sends 
to you.” 

But Mrs. Scudder was too much excited to comprehend 
this explanation, even if she had listened to it. Having it 
fixed in her mind that there was a case of small pox on the 
stage, and that the driver was asking her to take into the 
house a passenger thus afflicted, her indignation knew no 
bounds. 

“ Clear out!” exclaimed she, excitedly ; “Ill call the 


82 


SPEECHIANA. 


men folks if you don’t clear !” and then shouting at the top 
of her voice : “ Ike ! you Ike ! where are you ?” 

Ike soon made his appearance, and inquired— 

“ W-what’s the matter, mother?” 

The driver answered— 

“I dells you now onct more, for der last time, I’fe got 
der shmall pox, and Mishter Ellis he dells me to gif it to 
Miss Scutter, and if dat vrow ish Miss Scutter, vy she no 
dake der pox?” 

By this time several of the passengers had got off the 
stage to see the fun, and one of them explained to Mrs. 
Scudder that it was a box, and not small pox that the driver 
wished to leave with her. 

The woman had become so thoroughly frightened that 
she was still incredulous, until a bright idea struck Ike. 

“Oh, mother!” exclaimed he, “ I know what’tis—it’s 
Madame Ellis’s box of laces sent to be done up.” 

With this explanation the affair was soon settled, and 
Mrs. Scudder received the Dutchman’s “shmall pox” 
amidst the laughter and shouts of the occupants of the old 
stage coach. The driver joined in, although he had not the 
least idea of what they were laughing at, and as the vehicle 
rolled away, he added not a little to the mirth by saying, 
in a triumphant tone of voice, “ I vas pound ter gif ter old 
vomans der shmall pox, vether she vould dake it or not.” 


BUCK FANSHAW’S FUNERAL. 

MARK TWAIN. 

There was a grand time over Buck Fanshaw when he 
died. He was a representative citizen. He had “ killed 
his man ”—not in his own quarrel, to be sure, but in de¬ 
fence of a stranger beset by numbers. He had kept a 
sumptuous saloon. He had been the proprietor of a dash¬ 
ing helpmeet, whom he could have discarded without the 
formality of a divorce. He had held a high position in 




SPEECHIANA. 


83 


the fire department, and had been a very Warwick in poli¬ 
tics. Y\ hen he died there was great lamentation through¬ 
out the town, but especially in the vast bottom stratum°of 
society. 

On the inquest it was shown that Bnck Fanshaw, in the 
delirium of a wasting typhoid fever, had taken arsenic, shot 
himself through the body, cut his throat, and jumped out of' 
a four-story window and broken his neck, and after due de¬ 
liberation, the jury, sad and tearful, but with intelligence 
unblinded by its sorrow, brought in a verdict of death “ by 
the visitation of God.” What could the world do without 
juries ? 

Prodigious preparations were made for the funeral. All 
the vehicles in town were hired, all the saloons were put in 
mourning, all the municipal and fire company flags were 
hung at half-mast, and all the firemen ordered to muster in 
uniform and bring their machines duly draped in black. 

Regretful resolutions were passed and various commit¬ 
tees appointed ; among others, a committee of one was ap¬ 
pointed to call on a minister—a fragile, gentle, spiritual 
new fledgling from an eastern theological seminary, and as 
yet unacquainted with the ways of the mines. The com¬ 
mittee-man, “ Scotty” Briggs, made his visit. 

Being admitted to his presence, he sat down before the 
clergyman, placed his fire-hat on an unfinished manuscript 
sermon under the minister’s nose, took from it a red silk 
handkerchief, wiped his brow, and heaved a sigh of dismal 
impressivenesss explanatory of his business. He choked 
and even shed tears, but with an effort he mastered his 
voice, and said, in lugubrious tones: 

“ Are you the duck that runs the gospel-mill next 
door?” 

“ Am I the—pardon me, I believe I do not understand.” 

With another sigh and a half sob Scotty rejoined : 

11 Why, you see we are in a bit of trouble, and the boys 
thought may be you’d give us a lift, if we’d tackle you, that 
is if I’ve got the rights of it, and you’re the head clerk of 
the doxology works next door/’ 


84 


8PEECHI ANA. 


“ I am the shepherd in charge of the flock whose fold is 
next door.” 

“ The which ?” 

“ The spiritual adviser of the little company of believers 
whose sanctuary adjoins these premises.” 

Scotty scratched his head reflected a moment, and then 
said: 

(i You rather hold over me, pard. I reckon I can’t call 
that card. Ante and pass the buck.” 

“How? I beg your pardon. What did I understand 
you to say ?” 

“ Well, youVe rather got the bulge on me. Or may be 
we’ve both got the bulge, somehow. You don’t smoke me 
and I don’t smoke you. You see one of the boys has 
passed in his checks, and we want to give him a good send- 
off, and so the thing I’m on now is to rout out somebody 
to jerk a little chin-music for us, and waltz him through 
handsome.” 

“My friend, I seem to grow more and more bewildered. 
Your observations are wholly incomprehensible to me. 
Cannot you simplify them some way ? At first I thought 
perhaps I understood you, but now I grope. Would it not 
expedite matters if you restricted yourself to categorical 
statements of fact unincumbered with obstructing accumu¬ 
lations of metaphor and allegory ?” 

Another pause and more reflection. Then Scotty said: 

“ I’ll have to pass, I judge.” 

“ How ?” 

“ You’ve raised me out, pard.” 

“ I still fail to catch your meaning.” 

“ Why, that last lead of yourn is too many for me—that’s 
the idea. I can’t neither trump, nor follow suit.” 

The clergyman sank back in his chair perplexed. 
Scotty leaned his head on his hand, and gave himself up to 
reflection. Presently his face came up, sorrowful, but con¬ 
fident. 

“ I’ve got it now, so’s you can savvy,” said he. “ What, 
we want is a gospel-sharp. See?” 


SPEECHIANA. 


85 


“ A what ?” 

44 Gospel-sharp, parson.” 

44 O ! Why did you not say so before ? I am a clergy¬ 
man—a parson.” 

“ Now you talk! You see my blind, and straddle it like 
a man. Put it there !”—extending a brawny paw, which 
closed over the minister’s small hand and gave it a shake 
indicative of fraternal sympathy and fervent gratification. 

“Now we’re all right, pard. Let’s start fresh. Don’t 
you mind me snuffing a little, becuz we’re in a power of 
trouble. You see one of the boys has gone up the 
flume—” 

“Gone where?” 

“Up the flume—throw’d up the sponge, you know.” 

44 Thrown up the sponge ?” 

44 Yes—kicked the bucket—” 

“Ah—has departed to that mysterious country from 
whose bourne no traveller returns.” 

“Return? Well, I reckon not. Why, pard, he’s 
dead /” 

44 Yes, I understand.” 

44 O, you do ? Well I thought may be vou might be get¬ 
ting tangled once more. Yes, you see he’s dead again—” 

“Again / Why, has he ever been dead before?” 

44 Dead before ? No. Do you reckon a man has got as 
many lives as a cat ? But you bet he’s awful dead now, 
poor old boy, and I wish I’d never seen this day. I don’t 
know no better friend than Buck Fanshaw. I know’d him 
by the back ; and when I know a man like him I freeze to 
him—you hear me. Take him all around, pard, there 
never was a bullier man in the mines. No man ever 
know’d Buck Fanshaw to go back on a friend. But it’s all 
up, you know ; it’s all up. It ain’t no use. They’ve scooped 
him !” 

44 Scooped him ?” 

44 Yes—death has. Well, well, well, we’ve got to give 
him up. Yes, indeed. It’s a kind of hard world after all, 
ain’t it? But, pard, he was a rustler. You ought to see 


86 


SfEEOIIIANA. 


him get started once. He was a bully boy with a glass 
eye ! Just spit iu his face, and give him room according 
to his strength, and it was just beautiful to see him peel 
and go iu. He was the worst son of a thief that ever 
draw’d breath. Pard, he was on it. He was on it bigger 
than an Injun!” 

“On it? On what?” 

“ On the shoot. On the shoulder. On the fight. Un¬ 
derstand ? He didn’t give a continental—for anybody. Beg 
your pardon, friend, for coming so near saying a cuss word 
—but you see I’m in an awful strain in this palaver, on ac¬ 
count of having to cram down and draw everything so mild. 
But we’ve got to give him up. There ain’t any getting 
around that, I don’t reckon. Now, if we can’t get you to 
help plant him”— 

“Preach the funerel discourse? Assist at the obse¬ 
quies ?” 

“ Obs’quies is good. Yes. That’s it; that’s our little 
game. We are going to get up the thing regardless, you 
know. He was always nifty himself, and so you bet you 
his funeral ain’t going to be no slouch ; solid silver door¬ 
plate on his coffin, six plumes on the hearse, and a nigger 
on the box with a biled shirt and a plug hat on—how’s that 
for high? And we’ll take care of you, pard. We’ll fix 
you all right. There will be a kerridge for you ; and what¬ 
ever you want you just ’scape out and we’ll tend to it. 
We’ve got a shebang fixed up for you to stand behind in 
No. One’s house, and don’t you be afraid. Just go in and 
toot your horn, if you don’t sell a clam. Put Buck through 
as bully as you can, pard, for anybody that know’d him 
will tell you that he was one of the whitest men that was 
ever in the mines. You can’t draw it too strong. He 
never could stand it to see things going wrong. He’s done 
more to make this town peaceable than any man in it. I’ve 
seen him lick four greasers in eleven minutes, myself. If 
a thing wanted regulating, lie warn’t a man to go browsing 
around after somebody to do it, but he would prance in and 
regulate it himself. He warn’t a Catholic; but it didn’t 



SPEECHIANA. 


87 


make no difference about that when it came down to what 
man’s right was—and so when some roughs jumped the 
Catholic boneyard and started to stake out town lots in it, 
he went for ’em, and he cleaned ’em, too! I was there and 
seen it myself.” 

“ That was very well, indeed—at least the impulse was 
—whether the act was entirely defensible or not. Had de¬ 
ceased any religious convictions? That is to say, did he 
feel a dependence upon, or acknowledge any allegiance to a 
higher power?” 

More reflection. 

“ I reckon you’ve stumped me again, pard. Could you 
say it over once more, and say it slow ?” 

44 Well, to simplify it somewhat, was he, or rather had 
he ever been connected with any organization sequestered 
from secular concerns and devoted to self-sacrifice in the in¬ 
terests of morality ?” 

“ All down but nine—set’em up on the other alley, 
pard.” 

44 What did I understand you to say ?” 

Why, you’re most too many for me, you know. When 
you get in with your left, I huut grass every time. Every 
time you draw, you fill; but I don’t seem to have any luck. 
Let’s have a new deal.” 

How ? Begin again.” 

<• That’s it.” 

‘•Very well. Was he a good man, and—” 

44 There—I see that; don’t put up another chip, till I 
look at my hand. A good man, says you? Pard, it aiu t 
no name for it. He was the best man that ever pard, 
vou would have doted on that man. He could lam any 
galoot of his inches in America. It was him that put 
down the riot last election before it got a start; and 
everybody said that he was the only man that could have 
done it. He waltzed in with a trumpet in one hand and a 
spanner in the other, sent fourteen men home on a shutter 
in less than three minutes. He had the riot all broke up 
and prevented nice before anybody had a chance to strike a 


88 


SPEECHIANA. 


blow. He was always in for peace, and he would have 
peace—he could not stand disturbances. Pard, he was a 
great loss to this town. It would please the boy3 if you 
could chip in something like that and do him justice. Here 
once when the Micks got to throwing stones through the 
Methodist Sunday school windows, Buck Fanshaw, all of 
his own notion, shut up his saloon, and took a couple of 
six-shooters and mounted guard over the Sunday-school. 
Says he, ‘ No Irish need apply !’ And they didn’t. He was 
the bulliest man in the mountains, pard ; he could run fast¬ 
er, jump higher, hit harder, and hold more tangle-foot 
whiskey without spilling than any man in seventeen coun¬ 
ties. Put that in, pard; it’ll please the boys more than 
anything you could say. And you can say, pard, that he 
never shook his mother.” 

“ Never shook his mother?” 

“ That’s it—any of the boys will tell you so.” 

“ Well, but why should he shake her ?” 

“ That’s what I say—but some people does.” 

“ Not people of any repute ?” 

“ Well, some that averages pretty so-so.” 

“ In my opinion, a man that would offer personal violence 
to his mother, ought to—” 

“ Cheese it, pard ; you’ve banked your ball clean outside 
the string. What I was a-drivin’ at was that he never 
throwed off his mother—don’t you see ? No, indeedy ! He 
gave her a house to live in, and town lots, and plenty of 
money ; and he looked after her and took care of her all 
the time ; and when she was down with the small pox. I’m 
damned if he didn’t set up nights and nuss her himself! 
Beg your pardon for saying it, but it hopped out too quick 
for yours truly. You’ve treated me like a gentleman, and I 
ain’t the man to hurt your feelings intentional. I think 
you’re white. I think you’re a square man, pard. I like 
you, and I’ll lick any man that don’t. I’ll lick him till he 
can’t tell himself from a last year’s corpse ! Put it there !” 

(Another fraternal handshake—and exit.) 

The obsequies were all that the “ boys ” could desire. 


SPEECHIANA. 


89 


Such funeral pomp had never been seen in Virginia. The 
plumed hearse, the dirge-breathing brass bauds, the closed 
marts of business, the flags drooping at half mast, the long 
plodding procession of uniformed secret societies, military- 
battalions and fire companies, craped engines, carriages of 
officials and citizens in vehicles and on foot, attracted mul¬ 
titudes of spectators to the sidewalks, roofs and windows ; 
and for years afterward, the degree of grandeur attained by 
any civic display was determined by comparison with Buck 
Fanshaw’s funeral. 


TALKING LATIN. 

HALIBTJETON. 

Feelin’ a hand on my arm, I turns round; and who 
should I see but Marm Green ! Dear me, said she, is that 
you, Mr. Slick ? I’ve been looking all about for you for 
ever bo long. How do you do ? I hope I see you quite 
well. Hearty as brandy, marm, says I, tho’ not quite as 
strong, and a great deal heartier for a-seein’ of you How 
be you? Reasonable well, and stirrin’, says she: I try to 
keep a-movin’: but I shall give the charge of things soon 
to Arabella. Have you seen her yet? No, says I; I 
havn’t had the pleasure since her return ; but I hear folks 
say she is a most splendid fine gal. Well, come, then, said 
she, a-takin’ o’ my arm ; let me introduce you to her. She 
is a fine gal, Mr. Slick—that’s a fact; and tho’ I say it, 
that shouldn’t say it, she’s a considerable of an accomplished 
gal too. Now, I take some credit to myself, Mr. Slick, for 
that. She is throwed away here ; but I was determined to 
have her educated, and so I sent her to bordin’ school; and 
you see the effect of her five quarters. Afore she went, she 
was three years to the combined school in this district— 
that includes both Dalhousie and Sherbrooke. You have 
combined schools in the States, haven’t you, Mr. Slick ? T 
guess we have, said I; boys and gals combined ; was to 
one on ’em, when I was considerable well grown up. Dear 



90 


SPEECHIANA. 




me, what fun we had! It’s a grand place to larn the multi¬ 
plication table at, ain’t it ? I recollect once—Oh ; fie! Mr. 
Slick, I mean a siminary for young gentlemen and ladies, 
where they larn Latin and English combined. Oh, latten! 
said I; they larn latten there, do they? Well, come, there 
is some sense in that: I didn’t know there was a factory of 
it in all Nova Scotia. I know how to make latten. Father 
sent me clean away to New York to larn it. You mix up 
calimine and copper, and it makes a brass as near like gold 
as one pea is like another ; and then there is another kind 
o’ latten workiu’—tin over iron—it makes a most complete 
imitation of silver. Oh ! a knowledge of latten has been of 
great sarvice to me in the clock trade, you may depend. It 
has helped me to a nation sight of the genu wine metals— 
that’s a fact. 

Why, what on airth are you a-talkin’ about ? said Mrs. 
Green. I don’t mean that latten at all; I mean the Latin 
they larn at schools. Well, I don’t know, said I; I never 
seed any other kind o’ latten, nor ever heerd tell of any. 

What is it? Why it’s a-, it’s a-. Oh, you know 

well enough, said she ; only you make as if you didn’t, to 
poke fun at me. I believe, on my soul, you’ve been abam- 
min of me the whole blessed time. I hope I be shot if I 
do, said I; so do tell me what it is. Is it anything in the 
silk factory line, or the straw-plat, or the cotton-warp way? 
Your head, said she, considerable mifiy, is always a-runnin’ 

on a factory. Latin is a-. Nabal, said she, do tell me 

what Latin is. Latin ? says he,—why, Latin is-ahem, 

it’s-what they teach at the combined school. Well, says 

she, we all know that as well as you do, Mr. Wisehead; 
but what is it ? Come here, Arabella dear, and tell me 
what Latin is ? Why, Latin ma, said Arabella, is—am-o, I 
love ; am-at, he loves ; am-amus, we love ;—that’s Latin. 
Well, it does sound dreadful pretty, tho’, don’t it? says I; 
and yet if Latin is love, and love is Latin, you hadn’t no 
occasion—and I got up and slipt my hand into hers—you 
hadn’t no occasion to go to the combined school to larn it; 
for natur’, says I, teaches that a-and I was whisperin’ 







SPEECHIANA. 


91 


of the rest o’ the sentence in her ear, when her mother said, 
Come, come, Mr. Slick, what’s that you are a-saying of? 
Talkin’ Latin, says I, smiling at Arabella;—ain’t we, 
miss? Oh yes, said she, returning my glance and larfin’; 
oh yes, mother; arter all, he understands it complete. 
Then take my seat here, says the old lady, and both on you 
sit down and talk it; for it will be a good practice for you ; 
—and away she sailed to the end of the room, and left us 
a —talking Latin. 


MARK TWAIN’S FIRST INTERVIEW WITH 
ARTEMUS WARD. 

S. C. CLEMENS. 

I had never seen him before. He brought letters of in¬ 
troduction from mutual friends in San Francisco, and by 
invitation I breakfasted with him. It was almost religion, 
there in the silver-mines, to precede such a meal with 
whiskey cocktails. Artemus, with the true cosmopolitan 
instinct, always deferred to the customs of the country he 
was in, and so he ordered three of those abominations. 
Kingston was present. I am a match for nearly any beve¬ 
rage you can mention except a whiskey cocktail, and there¬ 
fore I said I would rather not drink one. I said it would 
go right to my head and confuse me so that I would be in 
a helpless tangle in ten minutes. I did not want to act like 
a lunatic before strangers, but Artemus gently insisted, and 
I drank the treasonable mixture under protest, and felt all 
the time that I was doing a thing that I might be sorry 
for. In a minute or two I began to imagine that my ideas 
were clouded. I waited in great anxiety for the conver¬ 
sation to open, with a sort of vague hope that my under¬ 
standing would prove clear, after all, and my misgivings 
groundless. 

Artemus dropped an unimportant remark or two, and 
then assumed a look of superhuman earnestness, and made 
the following astounding speech. He said :— 



92 


SPEECHIANA. 


u Now, there is one thing I want to ask you about before 
I forget it. You have been here in Silverland—here in 
Nevada—two or three years, and, of courso, your position 
on the daily press has made it necessary for you to go down 
in the mines and examine them carefully .in detail, and 
therefore you know all about the silver-mining business. 
Now, what I want to get at is—is, well, the way the de¬ 
posits of ore are made, you know. For instance. Now, 
as I understand it, the vein which contains the silver is 
sandwiched in between castings of granite, and runs along 
the ground, and sticks up like a curbstone. 

“Well, take a vein forty feet thick, for example, or 
eighty, for that matter, or even a hundred,—say you go 
down on it with a shaft, straight down, you know, or with 
what you call the ‘ inclines,’ may be you go down five hun¬ 
dred feet, or may be you don’t go down but two hundred, 
any way you go down, and all the time this vein grows 
narrower, when the castings come nearer or approach each 
other, you may say, that is when they do approach, which 
of course they do not always do, particularly in cases where 
the nature of the formation is such that they stand apart 
wider than they otherwise would, and which geology has 
failed to account for, although everything in that science 
goes to prove that all things being equal, it would if it did 
not, or would not certainly if it did, and then of course they 
are. Do not you think it is ?” 

I said to myself: “ Now I just knew how it would be, 
—that cussed whiskey cocktail has done the business for 
me ; I don’t understand any more than a clam.” And then 
I said aloud, “ I—I—that is—if you don’t mind, would 
you—would you say that over again ? I ought—” 

“ 0, certainly, certainly ! You see I am very unfamiliar 
with the subject, and perhaps I don’t present my case 
clearly, but I—” 

“No, no—no, no—you state it plain enough, but that 
vile cocktail has muddled me a little. But I will,—no, I 
do understand, for that matter ; but r I would get the hang 


SPEECHIANA. 


93 


of it all the better if you went over it again,—and I’ll pay 
better attention this time.” 

He said, “Why, what I was after, was this.” (Here he 
became more fearfully impressive than ever, and empha¬ 
sized each particular point by checking it off on his finger 
ends.) “This vein, or lode, or ledge, or whatever you call 
it, runs along between two layers of granite, just the same 
as if it were a sandwich. Very well. Now, suppose you 
go down on that, say a thousand feet, or maybe twelve 
hundred (it don’t really matter), before you drift; and 
then you start your drifts, some of them across the ledge, 
and others along the length of it, where the sulphurets—I 
believe they call them sulphurets, though why they should, 
considering that, so far as I can see, the main dependence 
of a miner does not so lie, as some suppose, but in which 
it cannot be successfully maintained wherein the same 
should not continue, while part and parcel of the same ore 
not committed to either in the sense referred to, whereas, 
under different circumstances, the most inexperienced 
among us could not detect it if they were, or might over¬ 
look it if it did, or scorn the very idea of such a thing, even 
though it were palpably demonstrated as such. Am I not 
right?” 

I said sorrowfully; “I feel ashamed of myself, Mr. 
Ward. I know I ought to understand you perfectly well, 
but you see that infernal whiskey cocktail has got into my 
head, and now I cannot understand even the simplest pro¬ 
position. I told you how it would be.” 

“ O, don’t mind it, don’t mind it; the fault was my own, 
no doubt,—though I did think it clear enough for—” 

u Don’t say a word. Clear! Why, you stated it as 
clear as the sun to anybody but an abject idiot, but it’s that 
confounded cocktail that has played the mischief.” 

u No, now don’t say that. I’ll begin it all over again, and—” 
“ Don’t now,—for goodness’ sake, don’t do anything, of 
the kind, because I tell you my head is in such a condition 
that I don’t believe I could answer the most trifling ques¬ 
tion a man could ask me.” 


94 


SPEECHIANA 


“ Now, don’t you be afraid. I’ll put it so plain this time 
that you can’t help but get the hang of it We will begin 
at the very beginning.” (Leaning far across the table, 
with determined impressiveness wrought upon his every 
feature, and fingers prepared to keep tally of each point as 
enumerated ; and I, leaning forward with painful interest, 
resolved to comprehend or perish.) “ You know the vein, 
the ledge, the thing that contains the metal, whereby it con¬ 
stitutes the medium between all other forces, whether of 
present or remote agencies, so brought to bear in favor of 
the former against the latter, or the latter against the 
former, or all, or both, or compromising as possible the 
relaiive differences existing within the radius whence cul¬ 
minate the several degrees of similarity to which—” 

I said: “ 0, blame my wooden head, it ain’t any use !— 
it ain’t any use to try,—I can’t understand anything. The 
plainer you get it the more I can’t get the hang of it.” 

I heard a suspicious noise behind me, and turned in time 
to see IlinL'Ston dodging behind a newspaper, and quaking 
with a gentle ecstasy of laughter. I looked at Ward again” 
and he had thrown off his dread solemnity and was laugh¬ 
ing also. Then I saw that I had been sold,—that I had 
been made the victim of a swindle in the way of a string of 
plausibly worded sentences that didn’t mean anything under 
the sun. 

Artemus Ward was one of the best fellows in the world, 
and one of the most companionable. It has been said that 
he was not fluent in conversation, but with the above expe¬ 
rience in my mind, I differ. 


FOR VERY LITTLE CHILDREN. 


Little Lines for Little Speakers, Containing short and easy 

Pieces for Children, entirely new and original, suitable for Juvenile 
Exhibitions aud Entertainments. By Clara J. Denton. For convenience 
in making selections, the First Part contains short and easy pieces for 
boys and girls of seven to ten years of age ; in the Second Part are shorter 
and easier pieces for little children ranging from four to seven years ; the 
Third Part consists of pieces for Special Occasions, such as First and Last 
day of School, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, Washington’s Birthday, 
Fourth of July, Weddings, Salutatory and Valedictory Speeches, etc. The 
Pieces are prominently notable for their originality, simplicity, and effec¬ 
tive humor. Paper covers. 15 cts. 

Dick’s Little Speeches for Little Speakers. Containing 

original and Selected Recitations, bright, easy, and effective, well adapted 
for Young Children and little Tots, and suitable for Children’s Entertain¬ 
ments of every description. This little book offers a variety of over one 
hundred patriotic, serious, instructive and humorous pieces for boys and 
girls, very carefully selected and exceedingly effective, ranging from 
pieces of one or two simple couplets for the four-year-old pets, to the more 
pretentious Recitations for children of ten years of age, easily memorized, 
and suitable for general and special occasions. Paper covers.15 cts, 

Dick’s Little Dialogues for Little People. Consisting of 

Original and Selected Dialogues specially adapted for performance by 
Young and quite young children in Sunday School and other Juvenile 
Entertainments. The Dialogues range from the very easiest and simplest 
for very small children to those suitable for girls and boys of nine or ten 
years of age, in which some dramatic scope is introduced, but entirely 
within their capabilities ; including also Dialogues for Patriotic occasions, 
for opening and closing Anniversary Fxhibitious, and others requiring a 
number o# speakers for their pei’formance. Some of the Dialogues are on 
serioua and instructive subjects, but the majority are full of sparkling 
wit and effective humor. Paper covers.15 cts, 

Kavanaugh’s Exhibition Reciter for Very Little Children. 

Containing entirely Original Recitations, Dialogues, and short Speeches, 
adapted to the capabilities of very little boysand girls, including a variety 
of humorous, serious, and dramatic pieces for Children from three to ten 
years of age, and suitable for School Entertainments. By Mrs. Russell 
Kavanaugh. It contains a complete May Day Festival, with Speeches for 
twelve little children ; also some beautiful speaking Tableaux, easy musi¬ 
cal pieces, Salutatory and Valedictory Speeches, and over sixty amusing 
Dialogues and effective Recitations. Paper covers.30 cts. 

Holmes’ Very Little Dialogues for Very Little Folks. 

Containing forty-seven new and original Dialogues, with short and easy 
parts, mainly in words of one syllable and entirely suited to the capacity 
and comprehension of very young children. By Alice Holmes. The short 
conversations combine good moral tone with a great deal of humor, and 
are suitable for any entertainment in which very small children take 
part. It contains a very amusing piece for Santa Claus and a large num¬ 
ber of little tots. Paper covers.30 cts. 

Kavanaugh’s Comic Dialogues and Pieces for Little Chil¬ 
dren. Comprising short and easy original pieces for Suuday School and 
other exhibitions. By Mrs. Russell Kavanaugh. This book includes 
several amusing Christmas Pieces, introducing a novel Christmas Tree 
in which twenty-one little girls take part; a complete set of speeches for 
representing the different festivals during the year; a Floral Festival for 
twelve performers; and a great number of Dialogues and Recitations 
entirely suitable for young and very small boys and girls. Every thing is 
written in the simplest style, easily learned and comprehended by young 
cMLdrea, Paper covers...... ,30 eta 










MODEL SPEECHES AND SKELETON ESSAYS. 


Ogden’s Model Speeches for all School Occasions. Con- 

tain in g Original Addresses and Orations on everything appertaining to 
School Life: comprising Set Speecnea on all occasions connected with 
8chools, Academies and Colleges, for School Officers, as well as for 
Teachers and Students of both sexes, with appropriate replies. By 
Christol Ogden. 

This original work contains over one-hundred telling speeches ana 
replies in well-chosen words, and every variety of style, for 


All Kinds of School Ceremonials. 
Speeches on Opening and Dedicating 
New Schools and A cademies. 
Salutatory and Valedictory Addresses. 
Presentations and Conferring Honors. 


Burlesque Speeches. 

Addresses to Teachers. 

Prologues and Epilogues for School 
Exhibitions. 

Anniversary Congratulations. 


Including practical hints on Extempore speaking with a dissertation on 
the selection of appropriate topics, suitable style, and effective delivery, 
and also valuable advice to those who lack confidence when addressing 

the Public. Paper.5® cts. 

Bound in boards...75 cts. 

Ogden’s Skeleton Essays; or Authorship in Outline. Con¬ 
sisting of Condensed Treatises on popular subjects, with references to 
sources of information, and directions how to enlarge them into Essays, 
or expand them into Lectures. Fully elucidated by example as well as 
precept. By Christol Ogden. 

In this work is a thorough analysis of some SEVENTY prominent and 
popular subjects, with extended specimens of the method of enlarging 
them into Essays and Lectures. 

The following interesting topics are separately and ably argued on both 
sides of the question, thus presenting also well digested matter for 
Debate, being on subjects of absorbing interest everywhere 


Bi-Metalism 
Civil Service Reform. 
Prohibition. 

Is Marriage a Failure ? 
City and Country , 


The Credit System. 

Free Trade and Protection. 

Capital Punishment. 

Shall More or Less be Taught in 
Public Schools. 


All the remaining subjects are equally thoroughly discussed, and form a 
valuable aid to the student in preparing compositions, essays, etc. 

Paper.50 cts. 

Bound in boards.75 cts. 

Dick’s Book of Toasts, Speeches and Responses. Con¬ 
taining Toasts and Sentiments for Public and Social Occasions, and speci¬ 
men Speeches with appropriate replies suitable fOE the following occasions: 


Public Dinners. 

Social Dinners. 

Convivial Gatherings. 

Art and Professional Banquets. 
Agricultural and Commercial Festivals. 
Special Toasts for Ladies. 

Christmas, Thanksgiving and other 
Festivals. 


Friendly Meetings. 

Weddings and their Anniversaries. 
Army and Navy Banquets. 
Patriotic and Political Occasions. 
Trades’ Unions and Dinners. 
Benedicts’ and Bachelors’ Banquets . 
Masonic Celebrations. 

All Kinds of Occasions. 


This work includes an instructive dissertation on the Art of making amusing 
After-dinner Speeches, giving hints and directions by the aid of which 
persons with only ordinary intelligence can make an entertaining and 
telling speech. Also, Correct Rules and Advice for Presiding at Table. 

The use of this work will render a poor and diffident speaker fluent and 
witty—and a good speaker better and wittier, besides affording an im¬ 
mense fund of anecdotes, wit and wisdom, and other serviceable matter 

\o draw upon at will. Paper.30 cts. 

£eu&d So boards. . . 50 eta. 












Dick’s Dutch, French and Yankee Dialect Decitations.' 

An unsurpassed Collection of Droll Dutch Blunders,Frenchmen’s Funny Mistakes and 
Ludicrous and Extravagant Yankee Yarns, each Recitation being in its own dialect. 


DUTCH DIALECT. 

Der Mule Shtood on der 
Steamboad Deck. 

Go Vay, Becky Miller. 

Der Drummer. 

Mygel Snyder’s Barty. 
Snyder’s Nose. 

Dyin’ Yords of Isaac. 

Fritz und I. 

Betsey und I Hafe Bust Ub. 
Schneider sees Loah. 

Dot Funny Leetle Baby. 
Schnitzerl’s Philosopede. 
Der Dog und der Lobster. 
Schlosser’s Ride. 

Mine Katrine. 

Maud Muller. 

Ein Deutsches Lied. 

Hans and Fritz. 

Schneider’s Tomatoes. 
Deitsche Advertisement. 
Vas Bender Henshpecked. 
Life, Liberty and Lager. 
Der Goot Lookin’ Shnow. 
Mr. Schmidt’s Mistake. 
Home Again. 

Dot Surprise Party. 

Der Wreck of der Hezberus. 
Isaac Rosenthal on the 
Chinese Question. 

Hans Breltmann’s*Party. 
Shoo Flies. 

A Dutchman’s Answer. 

How Jake Schneider Went 
Blind. 

I Yash so Glad I Yash Here. 
The Dutchman and the 
Yankee. 

How the Dutchman Killed 
the Woodchuck. 


Der Nighd Pehind Grisd- 
mas. 

The Dutchman’s Snake. 

Yoppy’s Yarder und Hees 
Drubbles. 

Dhree Shkaders. 

Katrina Likes Me Poody 
Yen. 

Hans in a Fix. 

Leedle Yawcob Strauss. 

How a Dutchman was Done. 

Dot Lambs vot Mary Haf 
Got. 

The Yankee and the Dutch¬ 
man’s Dog. 

Zwei Lager. 

Schneider’s Ride. 

The Dutchman and the 
Small-pox. 

Tiamondts on der Prain. 

A Dutchman’s Testimony 
in a Steamboat Case. 

Hans Breitmann and the 
Turners. 


FRENCH DIALECT. 

The Frenchman’s Dilemma; 
or, Number Five Collect 
Street. 

The Frenchman’s Revenge. 

Noozell and the Organ 
Grinder. 

How a Frenchman Enter¬ 
tained John Bull. 

Mr. Rogers and Monsieur 
Denise. 

The Frenchman and the 
Landlord. 

The Frenchman and the 
Sheep’s Trotters. 


A Frenchman’s Account of 
the Fad. 

I Yant to Fly. 

The Generous Frenchman. 

The Frenchman and the 
Flea Powder. 

The Frenchman and the 
Rats. 

Monsieur Tonson. 

Yat You Please. 

The Frenchman and the 
Mosquitoes. 

The Frenchman’s Patent 
Screw. 

The Frenchman’s Mistake. 

Monsieur Mocquard Be¬ 
tween Two Fires. 


YANKEE DIALECT. 

Mrs. Bean’s Courtship. 

Hez and the Landlord. 
Squire Billings’ PickereL 
Deacon Thrush in Meeting*. 
The Yankee Fireside. 

Peter Sorghum in Love. 
Mrs. Smart Learns how to 
Skate. 

Capt. Hurricane Jones on 
the Miracles. 

The Dutchman and tho 
Yankee. 

The Yankee Landlord* 

The Bewitched Clock. 

The Yankee and the Dutch¬ 
man’s Dog. 

Aunt Hetty on Matrimony. 
The Courtin’. 

Ebenezer on a Bust. 

Sut Lovingood’s Shirt. 


This Collection contains all the best dialect pieces that are incidentally scattered 
through alarge number of volumes of u Recitations and Readings,” besides new and 


excellent sketches never before published. 170 pages, paper cover.30 cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back.50 cts. 


Dick S Irish Dialect Recitations. A carefully compiled Collec¬ 

tion of Rare Irish Stories, Comic, Poetical and Prose Recitations. Humorous Letters 


and Funny Recitals,all told 

Biddy’s Troubles 

Birth of St. Patrick, The. 

Bridget O’Hoolegoin’s Let¬ 
ter. 

Connor. 

Dermot O’Dowd. 

Dick Macnamara’s Matri¬ 
monial Adventures. 

Dying Confession of Paddy 
M’Cabe. 

Father Molloy. 

Father Phil Blake’s CA.3C- 
tio a . 

Father Roach. 

Fight of Hell-Kettle, The. 

Handy Andy’s Little Mis¬ 
takes. 

How Dennis Took the 
Pledge. 

How Pat Saved his Bacon. 

Irish Astronomy. 


Irish Coquetry. 

Irish Drummer, The. 

Irish Letter, An. 

Irish Philosopher, The. 

Irish Traveler, The. 
Irishman’s Panorama, The. 
Jimmy McBride’s Letter. 
Jimmy Butler and the Owl. 
King O’Toole and St. Kevin. 
Kitty Malone. 

Love in the Kitchen. 

Micky Free and the Priest. 
Miss Malony on the Chinese 
Question. 

Mr. O’Hoolahan’s Mistake. 
Paddy Blake’s Echo. 

Paddy Fagan’s Pedigree. 
Paddy McGrath and the 
Bear. 

Paddy O’Rafther. 

Paddy the Piper. 


the Irish dialect. Containing 

Paddy’s Dream. 

Pat and the Fox. 

Pat and the Gridiron, 

Pat and his Musket. 

Pat and the Oysters. 

Pat’s Criticism. 

Pat’s Letter. 

Pat O’Flanigan’s Colt. 
Patrick O’Rouke and the 
Frogs. 

Paudeen O’Rafferty’s Say 
Yoyage. 

Peter Mulrooney and the 
Black Filly. 

Phaidrig Crohoore. 

Rory O’More’a Present to 
the Priest. 

St. Kevin. 

Teddy O’Toole’s Six Bulls. 
Wake of Tim O’Hara, The. 
Widow Cummiskey, The. 


This Collection contains, in addition to new and original pieces, all the very best 
Recitations in the Irish dialect that can be gathered from a whole library of 41 Recita¬ 
tion ” books. It is full of sparkling witticisms and it furnishes also a fund of entertain¬ 


ing matter for perusal in leisure moments. 170 pages, paper cover.30 cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back. .... . . 












Tambo’s End-Men’s Minstrel Gags. Containing some of the 

best Jokes and Repartees of the most celebrated “burnt cork” performers of our 
day. Tambo and Bones in all sorts and manner of scrapes. This Book 13 full ol 
Burnt-Cork Drolleries, Funny Stories, Colored Conundrums, Gags and Wittv Repar¬ 
tee, all the newest side-splitting conversations between Tambo, Bones, and the In* 
terlocutor, and will be found useful alike to the professional and amateur performer 
Contents ; 


A Bird that can’t be 
Plucked 

Annihilating Time 
At Last 
Bashful 
Bet, The 
Big Fortune, A 
Blackberrying 
Black Swan, The 
Bones and his little Game * 
Bones and the Monkey 
Tricks 

Bones as a Fortune Teller 
Bones as a Legitimate Ac¬ 
tor 

Bones as a Pilot 
Bones as a Prize Fighter 
Bones asa“ Stugent ” 
Bones as a Traveler 
Bones as a Victim to the 
Pen 

Bones as a Walkist 
Bones assists at the Per¬ 
formance of a New Piece 
Bones attends a Seance 
Bones finds Himself Fa¬ 
mous 

Bones gets Dunned 
Bones gets Stuck 
Bones has a Small Game 
with the Parson 
Bones’ Horse Race 
Bones in an Affair of Honor 
Bones in Love 
Bones keeps a Boarding 
House 

Bones on the War Path 
Bones on George Washing¬ 
ton 

Bones on the Light Fantas¬ 
tic 


Bones Opens a Spout Shop 
Bones Plays O’Fella 
Bones sees a Ghost 
Bones Slopes with Sukey 
Sly 

Bones tells a “Fly” Story 
Brother will come home to¬ 
night 

Bones as a Carpet Bagger 
Bones as an Inkslinger 
Bones in a New Character 
Bones in Clover 
Bones’ Love Scrape 
11 Cullud ” Ball, The 
Conundrums 
Curious Boy 
Dancing Mad 

Dat’s What jl’d Like to 
Know 
Definitions 

De Mudder of Inwention 
Difference, The 
Don’t Kiss every Puppy 
“ Far Away in Alabam’ ” 
First White Man, The 
Fishy Argument 
Four-Eleven-Forty-Four 
Four Meetings, The 
From the Poiks 
Girl at the Sewing Ma¬ 
chine 

Hard Times 
Hard to take a Hint 
Heavy Spell, A 
Highfalutin’ 

Horrible! 

How Bones became a Min¬ 
strel 

How Tambo took his Bit¬ 
ters 

How to do it 


Impulsive Oration 

Inquisitive 

Jeallusest of her Sect 

Legal Problem, A 

Liberal Discount for Cash 

Manager in a Fix, The 

Mathematics 

Merry Life, A 

Momentous Question 

Mosquitoes 

Music 

N otes 

Ob Course 

Our Shop Girts 

Pomp and Ephy Green 

Presidency on de Brain 

Proposed Increase of Taxes 

Railroad Catastrophe 

Reality versus Romance 

Rough on Tambo 

Sassy Sam and Susie Long 

School’s In 

Shakespeare with a Ven¬ 
geance 

Simple Sum in Arithmetic 
Sleighing in the Park 
Sliding Down the Hill 
Style 
Sublime 

Swearing by Proxy 

Tambo’s Traveling Agent 

That Dear Old Home 

“The Pervisions, Josiar ” 

Thieves 

Tonsorial 

Toast, A 

Uncle Eph’s Lament 
Waiting to See Him Off 
You Bet 

And 40 popular songs and 
dances. 

- - • t 30cts* 

- - • • 50ets. 


Everything new and rich. Paper covers 
Bound in boards, with cloth back 


McBride’s Comic Speeches and Recitations. Designed for 

Schools, Literary and Social Circles. By H. Elliott McBride, Author of “McBride’s 
Humorous Dialogues,” etc., etc. This is one of the very best series of original 
speeches, in Yankee, Darkey, Spread-Eagle and village styles, with a number of 
diverting addresses and recitations, and funny stories, forming an excellent volume 
of selections for supplying the humorous element of an exhibition. Contents: 


A Burst of Indignation 
Disco’s© by a Colored Man 
A Trumpet Sarmon 
Sarmon on Skilletvillers 
Nancy Matilda Jones 
Hezeklah’s Proposal 
About the Billikinses 
Betsy and I are Out Once 
More 

A Stump Speech 
About Katharine 
Deborah Doolittle’s Speech 
on Women’s Rights 
A Salutatory 
A Mournful Story 

Paper cover®, illuminated 
Board covers, illuminated 


An Address to Schoolboys 
Zachariah Popp’s Court¬ 
ship and Marriage 
A Sad Story 

How to Make Hasty Pud¬ 
ding 

My Matilda Jane 
Courtship, Marriage, Sep¬ 
aration and Reunion 
Lecture by a Yankee 
A Colored Man’s Disco’se 
on Different Subjects 
A Girl’s Address to Boys 
McSwinger’s Fate 


• * • « 


Peter Peabody’s Stumj* 
Speech 

Mr. Styx Rejoices on Ac¬ 
count of a New Well 
Spring 

Victuals and Drink 
Speech by Billy Higgins on 
the Destruction of Hi® 
Rambo Apple Tree 
A Boy’s Address to Young 
Ladies 

An Old Man’s Address to 
Young Wives 
Salu -t a-1 at- u-a-ry 
Valedictory. 

• • • SOcts, 

- • * • • ... &Octa» 












Beecher's Recitations and Readings. 

Dramatic. Designed for Public and Private Exhibitions. 


Miss Maloney at the Den¬ 
tist’s 

Lost and Found 
Mygel Snyder’s Barty 
Magdalena 

Jim W olfe and the Cats 
The Woolen Doll 
The Charity Dinner 
Go-Morrow ; or, Lots Wife 
The Wind and the Moon 
Dyin’ Words of Isaac 
Maude Muller in Dutch 
Moses the Sassy 
Yarn of the u Nancy Bell” 
Paddy the Piper 
Schneider sees “Leah ” 
Caldwell of Springfield 
Artemus Ward’s Panorama 
Tale of a Servant Girl 
How a Frenchman Enter¬ 
tained John Bull 
Tiamondts on der Prain 
King Robert of Sicily 
Gloverson the Mormon 
De Pint wid Ole Pete 
Pat and the Pig 
The Widow Bedott’s Letter 

Paper covers. Price 
Bound in boards, cloth back 


The Cry of the Children 
The Dutchman and the 
Small-pox 
Sculpin 

&ats—Descriptive Recita¬ 
tion 

A Reader Introduces Him¬ 
self to an Audience 
A Dutchman’s Dolly Var- 
den 

44 Rock of Ages 19 
Feeding the Black Fillies 
The Hornet 

The Glove and the Lions 

I Vant to Fly 

That Dog of Jim Smiley’s 

The Faithful Soul 

44 My New Pittayatees ” 

Mary Ann’s Wedding 

An Inquiring Yankee 

The Three Bells 

Love in a Balloon 

Mrs. Brown on the Streets 

Shoo Flies 

Discourse by the Rev. Mr. 
Bosan 

Without the Children 


Humorous, Serious, 

Contents : 

Signor Billsmethi’s Dano- 
ing Academy 
Der Goot Lookin Shnovr 
The Jumping Frog 
The Lost Chord ‘v. 

The Tale of a Leg 
That West-side Dog 
How Dennis Took the 
Pledge 

The Fisherman’s Summons 
Badger’s Debut as Hamlet 
Hezekiah Stole the Spoons 
Paddy’s Dream 
Victuals and Drink 
How Jake Schneider Went 
Blind 

Aurelia’s Young Man 
Mrs. Brown on Modern 
Houses 

Farm Yard Song 
Murphy’s Pork Barrel 
The Prayer Seeker 
An Extraordinary Phe¬ 
nomenon 

The Case of Young Bangs 
A Mule Ride in Florida 
Dhree Shkaders 

- 30cts* 

• • 5 Gets. 


Dick’s Ethiopian Scenes, Variety Sketches and Stump 

Speeches. Containing the following Eich Collection of Negro Dialogues, Scenes, 
Farces, End-Men’s Jokes, Gags, Rollicking Stories, Excruciating Conundrums. Ques« 
tions and Answers for Bones, Tambo and Interlocutor, etc. Contents: 


I’s Gwine to Jine de Ma¬ 
sons 

Jes’ Nail dat Mink to de 
Stable Do’—Oration 
But the Villain still Pur¬ 
sued Her—A Thrilling 
Tale 

Bones at a Free-and-Easy 
Buncombe Speech 
Shakespeare Improved 
End Gag—Bones and Tam¬ 
bo 

A Man of Nerve—Comic 
Sketch 

End Gag—Bones and Tam¬ 
bo 

Uncle Pete—Darkey Sketch 
The Rival Darkeys 
The Stage-Struck Darkey 
Add Ryman’s Fourth of 
July Oration 

Absent-Mindedness—Bones 
and Tambo 

Don’t Call a Man a Liar 
The Mysterious Darkey 
Rev. Uncle Jim’s Sermon 
The ’Possum-Run Debating 
Society 

Tim Murphy’s Irish Stew 
Brudder Bones in Love- 
Interlocutor and Bones 
’Lixey ; or, The Old Gum 
Game—Negro Scene f 
Brudder Bones’ Duel k 
Brudder Bones’ Sweetheart 
Brudder Bones in Hard 
Luck 

Two Left-Bones and Tambo 

1T8 pages, paper covers 
Bound in board, cloth back 


Speech on Boils 
How Bones Cured a Smoky 
Chimney 

Sermon on Keards, Hosses, 
Fiddlers, etc. 

Huggin’ Lamp-Posts 
Not Opposed to Matrimony 
How Pat Sold a Dutchman 
The Coopers—one Act Farce 
Questions Easily Answered 
—Bones and Tambo 
Examination in Natural 
History—Minstrel Dia¬ 

logue 

O’Quirk’s Sinecure 
The Widower’s Speech 
Bones at a Raffle 
Uncle Pete’s Sermon 
Bones at a Soiree—Interlo¬ 
cutor and Bones 
Speech on Woman’s Rights 
Bones’ Discovery 
Mark Twain Introduces 
Himself— Characteristic 
Speech 

Speech on Happiness 
Burnt Corkers—Minstrel 

Dialogue 

The Nervous Woman 
The Five Senses—Minstrel 
Dialogue 

The Dutchman’s Experi¬ 
ence 

Essay on the Wheelbarrow 
Bones at a Pic-Nic 
The Virginia Mummy— 
Negro Farce 


Brudder Bones in Clover 
Artemus Ward’s Advice to 
Husbands 

Wnere the Lion Roareth, 
and the Wang-Doodle 
Mourneth 

Romeo and Juliet in 1880 
Artemus Ward’s Panorama 
Brudder Bones as a Carpet- 
Bagger—Interlocutor and 
Bones 

Major Jones’ Fourth of July 
Oration 

Curiosities for a Museum-^ 
Minstrel Dialogue 
Burlesque Oration on Mat¬ 
rimony 

Brudder Bones on the Rag¬ 
ing Canawl 

The Snackin’-Turtle Man— 
Ethiopian Sketch 
Bones’ Dream—Ethiopian 
Sketch 

Come and Hug Me 
Widow O’Brien's Toast 
Scenes at the Police Court 
—Musical Minstrel Dia¬ 
logue 

Brudder Bones as a Log* 
Roller 

De Pint Wid Old Pete- 
Negro Dialect Recitation 
A Touching Appeal—Dutch 
Dialect Recitation 
Wounded in the Corners 
Darkey Dialogue 
End Gag— Interlocutor and 
Bones 

• • • • • lOeti, 

• * . - 40cU. 













Kavanaugh s New Speeches and Dialogues for Young 

Children. Containing easy pieces in plain language, readily understood 
by little children, and expressly adapted for School Exhibitions and Christ¬ 
mas and other juvenile celebrations. By Mrs. Russell Kavanaugh. This 
is an entirely new series of Recitations and Dialogues by this author, and 
full of pieces, in her well-known style of familiar 

calculated to give the little ones additional opportunities to distinguish 
themselves before an audience. It contains the following: 


Introduction.... 

Opening Speech. 

Speech for a School Exhibition 

The Parc® (The Fates). 

"Which "Would You Rather Be? 

Speech fora Tiny Girl. 

An Old Story, for a Child. 

Speech for a Boy. 

A Sudden Revulsion. 

Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus. A 
Novel Christmas Festival... 

May Celebration. 

Speech of Crowner. 

Speech of Sceptre-Bearer. .. 

Speech of Fun. 

Speech of Frolic. 

Speech of Vanity. 

Speech of Modesty. 

Speech of Beauty. 

Speech of Jollity. 

Speech of Boot-Black. 

Speech of News-Boy. 

Speech of May-Queen. 

The Tables Turned, for a Child 

Speech for a Boy. 

Speech for a Small Boy. 

Speech for a Very Little Boy.. 
The Farmer Boy and the City 

Dude. 

The Small Boy. 

Transposed. 

The Sun and His Satellites.... 

Speech of the Sun...... 

Speech of the Moon. 

Speech of Mercury. 

Speech of Mars. 

Speech of Jupiter. 

Speech of Saturn. 

Speech of Venus. 

True Happiness. 

Genius and Application. 

Five Versus Twenty-five. 

Saved from Suicide. 

Speech for a Very Small Child 

Three Enigmas. . 

Tickle his Hand wivh a Ten 

Dollar Bill. 

Speech for a Small Boy. 

Beautiful Belles, for several 

Girls. 

Beautiful Dudes, for several 
Boys. 


Four Little Rose-Buds. 

A Bouquet. 

Ta! Ta!. 

Speech for a Very Little Girl 
Speech for a Very Little Boy 

Blood Will Tell.. 

A Warning. 

A Race for Life. 

“He is a Brick”. 

Speech fora Small Boy. 

Watching. 

Gold. 

A Touching Incident. 

Buy a Broom, for several Girls 
Confusion Worse Confounded. 
ARelentless Tyrant,for a Child 

My Brother Jean. 

The Gratitude of the World. 

At the Skating Rink. 

Dimes! Oh, Dimes 1. 

A Fatal Bait, for a Child. 

The Decorated Donkey, for a 

Child. 

Tight Times. 

The Reason Why. 

A Modern Flirtation. 

Country Meeting Talk. 

Speech. 

Deeds of Kindness. 

The Boy’s Complaint. 

What Not to Do. 

Temperance Address. 

The Quarrelsome Boy. 

An Awful Fly, for a Little One 

Content. 

The Winds of the Prairie .. 
Santa Claus’ Christmas Tree 

Speech. 

The Creator. 

Where Did They Go. 

The Parting Lovers. 

Do Your Best.. 

Cherish Kindly Feelings. 

Advice to Boys. 

I Wish I Was a Grown-up .... 
No Time Like the Present.... 

The Boys We Need. 

Summer Vacation... 

MUSIC. 

Three Bright Stars. 

Beautiful Belles.. 

Buy a Broom. 


ISmo., Illuminated Paper Cover 


30 cts. Boards, . 


......50 Cts. 













































































































Howard’s Recitations. Comic, Serious and Pathetic. Col- 


lection of fresh Recitations in Prose and Poetry, suitable for Anniver¬ 
saries, Exhibitions, Social Gatherings, and Evening Parties. Contents: 


Miss Malony on the Chinese 
Question 
Kit Carson’s Ride 
Buck Fanshaw’s Funeral 
Knocked About 
Puzzled Dutchman 
Shamus O’Brien 
Naughty Little Girl 
Bells of Shandon 
No Sect in Heaven 
Rory O’Moore’s Present 
Mother’s Fool’’ 

Queen Elizabeth—a Comic 
Oration 
The Starling 
)Lord Dundreary's Riddle 
The Stuttering Lass 
The Irish Traveler 
The Remedy as Bad as the 
Disease 

A Subject for Dissection 
The Heathen Chinee 
Mona’s Waters 
A Showman on the Wood- 

How Happy I’ll Be 
A Frenchman’s Account of 
the Fall 
Isabel’s Grave 
Parson and the Spaniel 


An Irishman’s Letter 
Irish Letter 
The Halibut in Love 
The Merry Soap-Boiler 
The Unbeliever 
The Voices at the Throne 
Dundreary Proposing 
The Fir eman 
Paul Revere's Ride 
Annie and Willie’s Prayer 
A Frenchman on Macbeth 
The New Church Or^an 
Katrin aLikes me Poody Veil 
How to Save a Thousand 
Pounds 

How I Got Invited to Dinner 
Patient Joe 

Jimmy Butler and the Owl 
The Menagerie 
Old Quizzle 
Infidel and Quaker 
The La wyer and the Chim- 
ney-S weeper 
Bill Mas on’s Bride 
Judging by Appearances 
The Death’s Head 
Betsey and I are Out 
Betsey Destroys the Paper 
Father Blake’s Collection 
Blank Verse in Rhyme 


Roguery Taught 
Banty Tim 

Antony and Cleopatra 
Deacon Hezekiah 
The Frenchman and the 
Lan dlord 

The Family Quarrel—A Dia- 
logue on the Sixteenth 
Amendment 
The Guess 
Atheist and Acorn 
Brother Watkins 
Hans in a Fix 
To-M orrow 

The Highgate Butcher 
The Lucky Call 
Challen ging the Foreman 
Country Schoolmaster 
The Matrimonial Bugs and 
the Travelers 
Peter Sorghum in Love 
Tim Tuff 
Nick V an Stann 
The Debating Society 
Deacon Stokes 
To Our Honored Dead 
The Dying Soldier 
The Yankee Fireside 
The Suicidal Cat 
The Son’s Wish 

.30 cte. 

.50 cts. 


16 mo. 180 pages. Paper covers. Price 
Bound in boards, cloth back. 


Spencer’s Book of Comic Speeches and Humorous Recita- 

tions A collection of Comic Speeches and Dialogues, Dramatic Scenes 
and Characteristic Soliloquies and Stories Suitable for School Exhibitions. 
Contents: 


Comic Prologue and Intro¬ 
duction 

The V ankee Landlord 
His Eye was Stern 
The Goddess of Slang 
Dick s the Apprentice 
Courting in French Hollow 
The Case Altered 
Fox and the Ranger 
The Declaration 
The Warrantee Deed 
A Night’s Adventure , 
Julia—Comic Love Scene 
Saying nor Meaning 
Negro Burlesque for 3 males 
The Nimmers 
Gucom and the Back-log 
Widow Bedott’s Mistake 
How a Bashful Lover “ Pop¬ 
ped the Question” 
Crossing Dixie 
My Last Shirt 
The Three Black Crows 
The Barber’s Shop 
Paddy O’Rafther 
Decidedly Coo 

Paper covers. Price ... 
Bound in boards, cloth b 


Frenchman and the Rats 
The Jester Condemned to 
Death 

Kindred Quacks 
Hans Breitmann’s Party 
The Generous Frenchman 
Saint Jonathan 
Stump Speech 
The Rival Lodgers 
The Frenchman and the 
Mosquitoes 
The Maiden’s Mishap 
The Removal 
Talking Latin 
Praying for Rain 
Darkey Photographer 
Paddy and his Musket 
Hezekiah Bedott 
Uncle Reuben’s Tale 
Mr. Caudle has been to 
Fair 

Chemist and his Love 
Disgusted Dutchman 
The Frightened Traveler 
Jewess and her Son 
Clerical Wit—True Lies 


The School House 
Daniel versus Dishclout 
Spectacles 
The Pig 
A Stray Parrot 
Dame Fredegonde 
Toby Tosspot 
Courtship and Matrimony 
Rings and Seals 
The Biter Bit 
Pat and the Gridiron 
Barmecide’s Feast 
The Country Pedagogue 
The Middle-aged Man and 
Two Widows 

Saratoga Waiter—N egro 
Scene for 2 males 
The Wrangling Pair— A Po¬ 
etical Dialogue for Male 
and Female 
A Connubial Eclogue 
The Italian from Cork 
Gasper Schnapps’ Exploit 
Epilogue—Suitable for Con¬ 
clusion of an Entertain¬ 
ment 

.30 cts- 

.0....50 ct& 












Martine’s Droll Dialogues and laughable Recitations. 

A collection of Humorous Dialogues, Comic Kecitations and Spirited 
Stump Speeches and Farces, adapted for School and other Celebrations. 


Contents; 

Hints to Amateur Actors. 
Humorous Poetical Address 
The Bell and the Gong 
Mrs. Dove’s Boarding House 
The Wilkins Family 
Tlie Lawyer’s Stratagem 
Eulogy on Laughing 
Drawing a Long Bow. For 
3 males and 1 female. 

The Origin of Woman’s As¬ 
cendency over Man 
Veny Raynor’s Bear Story 
The Game of Life 
The Fortune Hunter. For 
2 males and 3 females 
The Parson and the Widow 
Hezekiah Stubbins’ Fourth 
of July Oration 
Slake your Wills Farce for 
7 male characters 
Mr. Rogers and Monsieur 
Denise 

Job Trotter’s Secret 


The Darkey Debating Soci¬ 
ety. Dialogue for 2 males 
The Scandal Monger. Dia¬ 
logue for 2 males and 2 fe¬ 
males 

Poor Richard’s Sayings 
Prologue to 41 The Appren¬ 
tice ” 

Address in the character of 
u Hope ” A Prologue 
Parody on the Declaration 
of Independence 
Bombastes Furioso. A Bur¬ 
lesque for 7 males 
Characteristic Address 
Examining de Bumps, Ethi¬ 
opian Dialogue for 2 males 
Election Stump Speech 
A Matrimonial Tiff. Dia- 
ogue for 1 male and 2 fe¬ 
males 

The Frenchman and the 
Sheep’s Trotters 


The 'Poor Relation. Comic 
Drama for 7 males 
Vat you Please 
The Babes in the Wood. For 
3 males and 4 females. 

My Aunt. 

Handy Andy’s Mistakes. 

The Cat Eater. 

A Shocking Mistake. Dia¬ 
logue for 3 males and 2 
females 

Wanted a Governess 
Rival Broom Makers 
Paudeen O’Rafl'erty’s Say- 
Voyage 

Mr. Caudle’s Wedding Din¬ 
ner 

Our Cousins. Negro Dia* 
logue for 2 male characters 
Mr. Caudle made a Mason 
Address of Sergeant Buzfuz 
The Wonderful Whalers 
Sam Weller’s Valentine 


188 pages. Paper Covers. Price... 30 ctS. 

Bound in Boards, cloth back....,. 50 CtS- 


Wilson’s Book of Recitations and Dialogues. Containing 

a choice selection of Poetical and Prose Recitations. Designed as an As¬ 
sistant to Teachers and Students in preparing Exhibitions. By Floyd 
Wilson, Professor of Elocution, Contents : 


Instruction in Elocution 
Dedication of Gettysburg 
Cemetery 
Sheridan’s Ride 
There’s but one Pair of 
Stockings 
Modulation 
Drummer Boy’s Burial 
John Maynard, the Pilot 
The Boys 
The Duel 

Lochiel’s Warning 
Socrates Snooks 
Mosaic Poetry 

Burial of the Champion of 
his Class at Yale College 
Scott and the Veteran 
Barbara Frietchie 
I Wouldn’t—Would You? 
The Professor Puzzled 
Thanatopsis 
The Two Roads 
The Pawnbroker’s Shop 
The Sophomore’s Soliloquy 
The Nation’s Hymn 
Address to a Skeleton 
A Glass of Cold Water 
Little Gretchen ; or New 
Year’s Eve 

Good News from Ghent 
The Sea Captain’s Story 
Our Heroes 
The Closing Year 
Burial of Little Nell 


The Picket Guard 
The Poor Man and the Fiend 
Our Country’s Call 
The Conquered Banner 
The High Tide ; or, the 
Brides of Enderby 
Death of Gaudentis 
Don Garzia 
Past Meridian 

The Founding of Gettysburg 
Monument 

Spartacus to the Gladiators 
Soliloquy of the Dying Al¬ 
chemist 

The Country Justice 
Unjust National Acquisition 
Dimes and Dollars 
Dead Drummer Boy 
Home 

Responsibility of American 
Citizens 

The Jester’s Sermon 
Left on the Battle Field 
The American Flag 
Oh! Why should the Spirit 
of Mortal be Proud ? 
Parrhasius 
The Vagabonds 
A Bridal Wine Cup 
Blanche of Devan’s Last 
Words 

Widow Bedott to Elder 
Sniffles 

A Psalm of the Union 


Charge of a Dutch Magis¬ 
trate 

Stars in my Country’s Sky 
Bingen on the Rhine 
Religious Character of Pre rV 
dent Lincoln 
The Raven 
The Loyal Legion 
Agnes and the Y ears 
Cataline’s Defiance 
Our Folks 

The Beautiful Snow 
The Ambitious Youth 
The Flag of Washington 
The Abbot of Waltham 
Ode to an Infant Son 
The Scholar’s Mission 
Claude Melnotte’s Apology 
Forging of the Anchor 
Wreck of the Hesperus 
The Man of Ross 
No Work the Hardest Work 
What is Time ? 

Brutus’s Oration over the 
Body of Lucreti a 
What is That, Mother ? 

A Colloquy with Myself 
St. Philip Neri and the 
Youth 

The Chameleon 
Henry the Fourth’s Solil¬ 
oquy on Sleep 
On Procrastination 
Appendix 

30 cts. 
50 cts, 


Paper Covers. Price 
Bound in Board, cloth back 











Brudder Bones’ Book of Stump Speeches and Burlesque 

Orations. Also containing Humorous Lectures, Ethiopian Dialogues, 
Plantation Scenes, Negro Farces and Burlesques, Laughable Inter¬ 
ludes and Comic Recitations. Contents : 


If I may so Speak. Bur¬ 
lesque Oration 
Dr. Pillsbury’s Lecture on 
Politics 

Vegetable Poetry. For 2 
males 

Teco Brag’s Lecture on As¬ 
tronomy 

We saw Her but a Moment 
Stocks Up, Stocks Down. 
For 2 males 

Brudder Bones’ Love 
Scrapes. 

Stump Speech ; or, “Any 
other Man.” 

War’s your Hoss. Dia¬ 
logue Recital 

Geology. Dialogue for 2 
males 

Tin-pan -o-ni-on. For Leader 
and Orchestra 
Dr. Puff Stuff’s Lecture on 
Patent Mediciues 
Sailing. For 2 males 
Challenge Dance. For s 
males 

Lecture on Bad Boys 
Tony Pastor’s Great Union 
Speech 

A Tough Boarding House 
Sleeping Child. 2 males 
Ain’t I Right, Eh ? Speech 
Wonderful Egg. For 2 males 
Bootblack’s Soliloquy 
Lecture to a Fire Company 


Julius’Peaches. For 2 males 
De Trouble Begins at Nine 
The Arkansas Traveler. 

For 2 Violin players 
Slap Jack. For 2 Darkeys 
Turkey . town Celebration. 
An Oration 

Uncle Steve’s Stump Speech 
A Midnight Murder 
Dat’s What’s de Matter 
The Freezing Bed Feller 
Mi', and Mrs. Wilkins 
Paddy Fagan’s Pedigree 
The Rival Darkeys. Act for 
2 males 

Han3 Sourcrout on Signs 
and Omens 

Hun-ki-do-ris Fourth of July 
Oration 

Josh Billings on Mosquitoes 
History of Cap John Smith 
A Speech on Women 
Impulsive Peroration 
The Bet. For 2 Darkeys 
Old Times gone By. Dia¬ 
logue for 2 Darkeys 
The Echo. Act for 2 Negroes 
Sol Slocum’s Bugle. 

Western Stump Speech 
In the Show Business. Dia¬ 
logue for 2 males 
“We are.” Stump Oration 
Original Burlesque Oration 
Waiting to see Him off, For 
2 males 


Patriotic Stump Speech 
De Railroad Accident. For 
2 Darkeys 

The Dutchman’s Lecture 
Prof- Unworth’s Leci ure 
The Three old Ladies 
Josh Billings’ Lecture onto 
Musick 

Brudder Bones’ Lady-Love. 

Dialogue for 2 males 
Deaf—In a Horn. Act for 2 
males 

Or any Oder Man’s Dog. A 
Speech 

Happy Uncle Tom 
Stick a Pin Dere, Brudder 
Horace 

Lecture on Woman’s Rights 
Dat’s wot de “Ledger” says. 
For 2 Darkeys 

Goose Hollow Stump Speech 
De Milk in de Cocoa Nut 
A Dutchman’s Answer 
Lecture on Cats 
The Patent Screw 
The Auctioneer 
Hints on Courtship 
Dutch Recruiting Officer 
Spirit Rappings. Dialogue 
for 2 males 
Dar’s de Money 
Let Her Rip, Burlesque 
Lecture 

The Stranger. Scene for 1 
male anal female 


16 mo. 188 pages. Paper covers. Price. 30 cts. 

Bound in boards, illuminated.50 cts! 


Dick’s Diverting Dialogues. A collection of effective Dra¬ 
matic Dialogues, written expressly for this work by various authors, aud 
adapted for Parlor Performances. They are short, full of telling “ situa¬ 
tions,” introducing easy dialect characters, and present the least possible 
difficulties in scenery and costume to render them exceedingly attractive, 
Edited by Wm. B. Dick. 


Lost and Won. 

Running for Office. 

The Uncle. A Proverb. 

Love's Labor.*Not Lost. 

Wanted—A Nurse.. 

Alm ost A Tragedy... 

The Will. A Proverb. 

Who Wears the Breeches. 

A Cold in the Head. 

The Wedding Day. A Proverb 


CO 

CO 


cr> 


fH 



*—i 

>> 

d 



d 


2 

2 

A Society for Doing Good. 

4 



3 

The Reception. A Proverb_ 

2 

3 

1 

2 

Caught in their Own Trap. 

2 

3 

1 

2 

Elwood’s Decision. 


4 

3 

2 

The Report. A Proverb. 

2 

1 


2 

Reformed Mormon Tippler... 

3 

1 

1 

3 

The Fortune Hunter. A Proverb 

2 

2 

1 

1 

Petticoat Government. 

1 

2 

4 

2 

Now or Never. A Proverb.... 

1 

3 

1 

3 

A Close Shave. 


2 


Including a complete programme of effective Living Portraits and 
Tableaux, with full directions for exhibiting them successfully. 


Bound in Boards. . 30 cts. 

Paper Covers....... ....cts. 































Dick’s Comic and Dialect Recitations. A capital collection 

of Comic Recitations, Ludicrous Dialogues, Funny Stories, and Inimitable 


Dialect Pieces, containing: 


An ^Esthetic Housekeeper 
At the Rug Auction 
Aunt Sophronia Tabor at the 
Opera—Yankee Dialect 
Awfully Lovely Philosophy 
Bad Boy and the Limburger 
Cheese, The 

Barbara Frietchie—Dutch 
Boy in the Dime Museum 
Bric-a-Br^c 

prudder Johnson on ’Lectri- 
city—Negro Dialect 
Butterwick’s Weakness 
By Special Request 
Can this be True? 

Champion Liar, The 
Conversion of Colonel Quagg 
Cut, Cut Behind—Dutch 
Debit and Credit in the Next 
World 

Per Oak und der Vine 
Per ’Sperience of Reb’rend 
Quacko Strong—Negro 
Der Vater Mill 
Doctor’s Story, 

Dutch Advertisement, 
Dutchman and the Raven 
Dutch Security—Dutch 
Early Bird, The 
Gentle Mule, The 
Granny Whar You Gwine? 
Girl of Culture* 

Goin’ Somewhere—Yankee 1 

Bound in Boards. 


Go-Morrow, or Lot’s Wife 
Hard Witness, A 
Horse that Wins the Race 
How a Woman Does It 
How Buck was Brought to 
Time—Yankee Dialect 
How Uncle Fin had the 
Laugh on the Boys 
Humming Top, The 
In der Shweed Long Ago 
Inquisitive Boy, The 
Irishman’s Perplexity, An 
Jim Onderdonk’s Sunday- 
School Oration 
John Chinaman’s Protest 
Juvenile Inquisitor, A 
Mai- ay’s Will—Irish Dialect 
Mark Twain on the 19th 
Century 

Mickey Feeny and the Priest 
Mine Moder-in-Law 
Mother’s Doughnuts 
Mr. and Mrs. Potter man 
Mr. Schmidt’s Mistake 
Mr. Spoopendyke Hears 
Burglars 

O’Branigan’s Drill 
Old Bill Stevens 
Old Erasmus’ Temperance 
Pledge—Negro Dialect 
Ole Settlers’ Meetun 
Original Love Story, An 
Our Debating Club 


Paper Covers 


Parson Jinglejaw’s Surprise 
Pat’s Correspondence 
Pleasures of the Telephone 
Positively the Last Perfor¬ 
mance—Cockney Dialect 
Raven, The—Dutch Dialect 
Sad Fate of a Policeman 
Scripture Questions 
Sermon for the Sisters, A 
Solemn Book-Agent, The 
That Fire at Nolan’s 
That Freckle-Faced Girl 
The Latest Barbara Friet¬ 
chie—Dutch Dialect 
The Paper Don’t Say 
Thikhead’s New Year’s Call 
Tickled all Oafer 
’Twas at Manhattan Beach 
Uncle Billy’s Disaster 
Uncle Mellick Dines with his 
Master—Negro Dialect 
Uncle Remus’ Tar Baby 
Uncle Reuben’s Baptism 
United Order of Half-Shells 
Waiter’s Trials, A 
Warning to Woman, A 
Ways of Girls at the Play 
Western Artist’s Accom¬ 
plishments, A 
Wily Bee, The 

Woman’s Description of a 
Play, A 

Yaller Dog, The 

..30 cts. 

.50 cts. 


Barton’s Comic Recitations and Humorous Dialogues. 

Containing a variety of Comic Recitations in Prose and Poetry, Amusing 

Scenes, Eccentric Orations, Humorous Interludes 


Dialogues, Burlesque 
and Laughable Farces. 
A Prologue to Open an En¬ 
tertainment 
The Stage-Struck Hero 
Here She Goes—and There 
She Goes 

Pastor M’Knock’s Address 
Old Sugar’s Courtship 
The Bachelor’s Reasons for 
Taking a Wife 
The Spanish Valet and the 
Maid—D1 alogue for 1 male 
and 1 Female. 

The Jackdaw of Rheims 
Jonathan and the English¬ 
man 

Artemns Ward’s Trip 
Auctioneer and the Lawyer 
Mr and Mrs. Skinner 
The Bachelor and the Bride 
Drunkard and his Wife 
A Western Lawyer’s Plea 
against the Fact 
Reading a Tragedy 
Cast-off Garments 
How to Cure a Cough 
The Soldier’s Return 
Countrymen and the Ass 
Come and Go 


How they Pop the Question 
The Clever Idiot 
The Knights 

How the Lawyer got a 
Patron Saint 

Josh Billings on Laughing 
Night after Christmas 
A Change of System—for 2 
males and 1 female 
Citizen and the Thieves 
Bogg’s Dogs 
The Smack in School 
The Tinker and the Miller’s 
Daughter 

An Original Parody 
The Parsons and the Cork¬ 
screw 

The Old Gentleman who 
Married a Young Wife — 
Stage-StruckDarkey—Inter¬ 
lude for males 
Goody Grim versus Lapstone 
—Dialogue for 4 males 
The Woman of Mind 
Wanted, a Confederate- 
Farce for 4 males 
Lodgings for Single Gentle¬ 
men I 


Nursery Reminiscences 
The Farmer and the Coun 
cellor 

The Pugilists 
How Pat Saved his Bacon 
The Irish Drummer 
Mike Hooter’s Bear Story 
The Critic 

Mr, Caudle Wants a Latch 
Key 

Humbugging a Tourist 
The Widow’s Victim—for 2 
males and 1 female 
Josh Killings on the Mule 
Tinker and" the Glazier 
Wonderful Dream—Negro 
Dialogue for 2 males 
An Occasional Address—For 
a Lady’s First Appearance 
An Occasional Prologue— 
For Opening a Perfor¬ 
mance 

Address on Closing a Per¬ 
formance 

A Prologue for a Perfor¬ 
mance by Boys 
An Epilogue for a School 
Performance 

30 cts. 
50 cts. 


Paper Covers. Price 
Bound in Boards, cloth back 














1 -A 






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GOOD BOOKS. 

Sent Postage-Paid, at the Prices Marked, 


American Hoyle, by “ Trumps ”, the Standard Book on Games.$1-50 

Dunne’s Draughts-Players’Guide. 150 

Dick’s Games of Patience; or, Solitaire with Cards. 1-00 

Dick’s Art of Gymnastics......1-00 

Hoyle’s Games, by “Trumps”.50 

Gossip's Chess-Player's Text Book...75 

Marache’s Manual of Chess.....50 

Dick’s Hand-Book of Cribbage.. .........50 

Modern Whist, by “ Trumps ”.25 

Dick's Original Album Verses and Acrostics.50 

Dick’s Book of Toasts, Speeches and Responses...50 

Barber's American Book of Ready-Made Speeches...50 

How to Conduct a Debate. -.50 

The Debater, Chairman’s Assistant, and Rules of Order...50 

Ogden’s Model Speeches for all School Occasions.50 

Ogden’s Skeleton Essays. .50 

The Worcester Letter-Writer and Business Forms.50 

Dick’s Common Sense Letter-Writer. 50 

North’s Book of Love-Letters.....50 

Dick’s Commercial Letter-Writer... 50 

Martine’s Sensible Letter-Writer.....50 

Frost’s American Etiquette.50 

Cruden’s Calisthenic, Training and Musical Drill.50 

Dick’s Palmistry Made Easy...50 

Day’s American Ready-Reckoner.50 

The American Housewife, and Kitchen Directory.50 

The Amateur Trapper and Trap-Maker’s Guide. .50 

Dick’s Quadrille Call-Book and Ball-Room Prompter.50 

The Banjo and How to Play It.50 

The Young Reporter; How to Write Short-Hand.50 

Dick’s Festival Reciter...30 

Dick’s Dutch, French and Yankee Dialect Recitations.30 

Kavanaugh’s Juvenile Speaker, for little children.30 

Dick’s Irish Dialect Recitations.30 

Kavanaugh’s New Speeches for little children.• • • • • -30 

Brudder Bones’ Stump-Speeches and Burlesque Orations...30 

Dick’s Comic Dialogues. ‘30 

Holmes’ Very Little Dialogues.30 

McBride’s Comic Dialogues. 30 

Burton’s Amateur Actor. 30 

Frost's Dramatic Proverbs and Charades.30 

Frost’s Tableaux and Shadow Pantomimes. 30 

Dick's Parlor Exhibitions.30 

The Parlor Magician..•.30 

The Art and Etiquette of Making Love.30 

The Mishaps and Adventures of Obadiah Oldbuck.30 

Dick’s Log and Lumber Measurer. 25 


COMPLETE DESCRIPTIVE CATALOG-UE MAILED FREE. 


DICK & FITZGERALD, Publishers, 

F. O. Box 2975, New York. 
















































































































































Si & 
















